


Roads Diverged

by freelancerrh



Category: Dawson's Creek
Genre: Abortion, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, F/M, Unplanned Pregnancy, fluffier than it sounds, sliding doors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-07
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-08-29 13:21:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 113,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8491321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freelancerrh/pseuds/freelancerrh
Summary: The stick had two lines. Four alternate continuations from "Late."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Spoilers:** Through 4x19, “Late,” AU after that, but draws from seasons 5  & 6 as well. However, can a show that aired almost twenty years ago still be spoiled?
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own Dawson's Creek, or much of anything else. Some dialogue is lifted directly from the show for effect purposes.
> 
>  **Author's Note:** For once in my life, I finished an entire story before posting it, so this will not be a permanent WIP. It's pretty long, over 80,000 words, and I'll be posting it in eight parts. I'm attempting Nanowrimo this year, and your feedback may be the inspiration I need to get me through, so please be kind.

_I think both roads lead back to the same place. Right here. You and me, Pace. That's the one thing that won't change. Not if we don't let it._  


~Joey Potter, “The Te of Pacey”

### Preface

Two lines appeared on a short stick, and her life changed forever.

No matter what happened after, the first thing Joey did was sit down on the toilet seat and cry. Bessie heard her, of course, and made her open the door, and saw the stick, and held her sister, and cried with her.

That part was always the same.

 

### Part One

**I.**

Joey thought she knew what she was going to do after she talked with Bessie; then she talked with Dawson at the hospital (not about _that_ , about his own stuff) and changed her mind; then she met Lillian and changed her mind again; then she met Gretchen's gaze and made a decision. A decision not to decide.

In all the fuss over the baby, no one noticed when she pulled her boyfriend's sister out of the room for a minute. “Make Doug bring Pacey home. Please.”

Eyes wide, Gretchen nodded. “Then you're sure? You're—” 

Joey jerked her head up and down once, not quite meeting Gretchen's eyes.

“Joey, I'm so...I don't even know...of course, I'll tell them to come home. Are you okay? Do you need anything? Do you want to go somewhere and talk about it?”

“Yeah, I do. With Pacey. I can't think about anything past that yet.”

“That's okay, Joey. Whatever you feel, whatever you decide to do, it will be okay. And I'm here for you, you know that, right?”

Joey nodded, numb, and accepted Gretchen's hug, all the time wishing it was Pacey's arms around her.

~*~*~

**II.**

The phone rang as Joey stepped into the house. It was finally Pacey. 

“Hey, Gretchen told me I had to call immediately. What's wrong?”

She should have been diplomatic. She should have kindly requested that Pacey get his ass back to Capeside, so they could talk. But after the day—after the week—she'd had, all Joey could think to do was throw some of the burden on his shoulders. “I'm pregnant.”

She could hear the hiss of Pacey's in-drawn breath over the line, followed by a succinct curse. “But we were always safe. I always used—”

“They don't always work. And in a stellar example of the kind of luck that's followed me all my life, we just became part of that mythical three percent.”

“Shit. I'm sorry, Jo. What, what do you want to do? Whatever it is, I'll be there. I promise. I'll get Dougie to drive back tonight, as soon as I can, just, just let me know what you need.”

Joey took her first easy breath in hours. “That's what I need, Pace. I need you to come home.”

~*~*~

She was awakened at 4:17 A.M. by a persistent tapping at her bedroom window. Groggily, she looked over to see Pacey, bent almost double, outside it. Joey left her warm bed to let him in. “You could have waited 'til morning, dork.”

“This is morning when you're camping with my boy scout brother.” Pacey somehow managed to contort his tall frame through Joey's window without breaking himself or anything else. 

Maybe it was his unusual mode of entry that made him loom larger in actuality than he did in Joey's mind. He smelled fresh and clean, like he'd stepped straight from the shower; his hair was still wet. He wore his ratty, old corduroy jacket.

Joey grabbed it by the lapels and buried her face within it, inhaling, filling her lungs with his scent. Pacey's arms came around her; he pulled her protectively close, tucked his nose into the strands of her hair and breathed.

Joey lost track of the minutes they spent locked together like that, finding comfort in the madness her life had become.

Finally, she felt brave enough to pull away and look him in the eye when she told him, “I can't have this baby, Pacey.”

Pacey flinched. It was in the space of a blink, but Joey saw it. But his hold on her didn't slacken for a moment. “Okay, Jo. Make the appointment. I'll go with you.”

“You don't have to do that.”

“It's my ba—problem, too. Of course, I'm going.”

“Thank you,” she said in a small voice. She looked at the clock. 4:32. Over an hour before her alarm went off for school. “Pace, would you, would you come to bed and just hold me?”

He kissed her forehead, nodded against her hair. Joey helped him slide off his jacket, then slipped into bed while Pacey took off his shoes. He was slow and gentle as he lay down beside her, as though he feared his touch could break her.

He pushed a strand of hair out of her eyes, tucked it behind her ear—its traditional place—and smiled sadly. “I love you, Jo.”

“Love you, too, Pace.” She closed her eyes and tried to sleep.

*~*~*

**III.**

“You don't have to do this, you know.”

Joey tuned out her sister's words. She focused on the picture on the wall across from her, a laughing red-haired woman, chin tilted to the sky, standing in the middle of an open field. Joey supposed she was meant to represent the freedom, the world of possibilities opening to the women who came here.

Bessie fidgeted in the chair beside her. “We could always come back another day, Joey. After you've taken some more time to—”

“Josephine Potter?” a blue scrub-clad nurse with a clipboard called out.

Joey stood. “That's me.”

“The doctor will see you now.”

Bessie gathered her purse and made to follow her, but Joey stopped her with a hand on her arm. “It's okay, Bessie. You can wait here.”

“But, Jo—”

“I know this is hard for you. It's enough that you agreed to drive me home. I won't make you watch, and, frankly, I don't think I can listen anymore to you trying to talk me out of it.”

“Miss Potter,” the nurse prompted impatiently.

Joey stepped away from her sister's open arms and followed the nurse into the clinic's antiseptic hallways. She didn't look back.

The nurse left her in an empty examination room, with a folded hospital gown, and instructions to put it on. The doctor would be there shortly.

After changing, Joey had a few minutes to sit alone and take in her surroundings. The smiling Asian woman in the portrait in this room was leaning over the bow of ship at sunrise. It hurt Joey in some indefinable way to look at it, so she surveyed the medical equipment to the side of the exam bed. Some of it reminded her weirdly of tools at her dentist's office. This whole procedure would take less time than having a tooth pulled and was supposed to be less painful, too.

Someone knocked on the door, then entered without waiting for a response. “Josephine? I'm Dr. Wharton.” The doctor was a kind-faced woman with salt-and-pepper hair. The hand she held out to Joey was firm and smooth, the nails perfectly clipped. For some reason, Joey couldn't stop staring at it, even after they shook hands and the doctor beckoned her to sit down.

Dr. Wharton looked over the file in her hand. “So you think you're about eight or nine weeks along?”

Joey nodded. “Yes,” she managed in a choked whisper.

Dr. Wharton glanced up and offered her a reassuring smile. “It's all right, Josephine—”

“Joey. Please.”

“Joey,” the physician corrected herself with hardly a pause. “I'm not here to judge you or your choices. I know you've been given the literature and are aware of your options. I believe you've come here with a fully-informed and well-considered decision to terminate your pregnancy. Is that correct?”

“Yes.” It sounded so rational when Dr. Wharton said it. It didn't reflect at all the mind-numbing terror Joey had been living with the past three days.

“Okay then. The first thing I'm going to do is perform an ultrasound to make sure you're not farther along than you think you are.”

“I don't have to see it, do I?”

“Of course not. Assuming you're on target, I'll give you a mixture of drugs to take. Ibuprofen, Valium, and Vicodin. They'll take about thirty minutes to fully relax you, at which point I'll return and perform the procedure. You're familiar with what that entails?”

Joey nodded. She looked again at the suction tube. Like spit at the dentist's office.

“The actual procedure will take only a minute. There may be some mild discomfort and bleeding after. Because of the drugs in your system, you will need a ride home. Do you have one?”

“My sister. She's waiting for me.”

“Good. That's good, Joey. I also have the option of starting you on birth control pills today, so this kind of thing doesn't happen to you again.”

“We were safe,” Joey said in a rush. “We used condoms. Every time. I don't want you to think I'm some brainless twit who didn't even stop to think about the consequences.”

“I didn't think that, Joey. But condoms are not one hundred percent effective, as you've unfortunately discovered. Would you like a prescription for birth control?”

“Yes, please.” Joey blushed, embarrassed by her outburst. Why was she so defensive? She hadn't done anything wrong. She wasn't doing anything wrong.

_You lied to Pacey_ , her treacherous conscience reminded her.

_Yeah, well, he lied to me, too_ , she argued back, then silenced her inner debate to follow Dr. Wharton's instructions for the ultrasound. 

Joey tried not to think about what the doctor was seeing, tried not to think at all. She caught a glimpse of the smiling woman on the boat and yanked her head in the other direction.

“You're exactly where you thought you were, Joey. Everything looks good. I'm going to have you swallow these pills, then lie back and try to relax. There's some magazines here, or I could have your sister come sit with you, if you'd prefer.”

“No!” Then, in a more reasonable tone, “No, thank you. I”ll be fine.” Joey obediently took the drugs and leaned against the pillows.

“I'll be back soon,” the doctor promised, then left her alone.

Joey glanced at the magazines, but couldn't see the appeal of which celebrity was cheating on which and with whom, and she had no need to craft the perfect Christmas party centerpiece. She stared up at the white ceiling, the sterile, florescent lighting.

“I'm doing the right thing,” she told herself for the hundredth time. “For both of us.”

A baby now would disrupt all of Joey's carefully laid plans for her life. It would place the dream of Worthington and a way out of Capeside forever beyond her reach. But she didn't think her motives were entirely selfish.

Pacey was unraveling. Joey had seen it for herself, even before Gretchen had warned her. This baby would be the final straw, the pressure that shattered him. Joey loved him too much to do that to him, too much to give him the guilt of this choice.

_Too much to tell him the truth?_ insisted that awful little voice inside.

It wouldn't do him any good to know. It wouldn't change what had to be done.

But fear was digging a hole in her belly. These lies she and Pacey kept telling each other were going to be their undoing. Joey couldn't help feeling that in signing consent for this abortion, she had signed the death sentence on her and Pacey's relationship.

The drugs started working in her system. She couldn't hold the threads of her thoughts together anymore. She watched the portrait of the woman on the boat until the water seemed to move, the hull of the ship rocking up and down. 

Joey closed her eyes. She tried to smell the salt tang of the sea, instead of the powerful disinfectants, tried to hear the roll of the waves and the whistle of the wind, instead of the gentle buzz of the lights. She pictured a moment of pure happiness, lying on the deck of _True Love_ , Pacey's hand in hers, as they tried futilely to number the stars.

Distantly, a door clicked open, a voice said, “Are you ready, Miss Potter?”

There were noises and sounds and smells, but Joey was far away, with the sea and the stars and Pacey beside her.

*~*~*

“Are you all right, Joey?” Bessie asked, for what had to be the hundredth time, since they'd left the clinic.

“Fine.” Joey stared out the window at the ocean as it slipped by. Now that her high was ending, it had never seemed further away.

“Are you sure? Because you can talk to me, you know. Despite what you think, I'm not judging you.”

“I said I'm fine!” But there was a tightening in her throat, an itch behind her eyelids.

Bessie turned the truck onto the turnoff for the B&B without another word.

As Bessie pull to a stop, Joey made herself apologize. “I'm sorry I snapped, Bess. Thanks for your help today.” She smiled, but it hurt her face somehow.

“I love you, Joey.”

“I know.”

Joey went inside and helped make dinner. She played with Alexander. She did homework. At the normal time, and not a minute before, she kissed her sister good night and went to her room. She closed the door, got into her pajamas, and slipped into bed.

Then she curled into a ball and stifled her sobs in a pillow.

~*~

**I.**

Pacey arrived home two days later, too late to call or stop by, or so he said, but he was at her house bright and early the next morning to give her the traditional ride to school.

“Hey. Gretchen said you needed to talk to me?” he said as soon as she opened the door.

Joey tried not to think about the fact that he didn't so much as greet her with a hug, when he used to squeeze the breath out of her lungs after a few hours apart. She tried not to think about how he had lied to her about his trip with his brother during their phone call the previous day, how she put off telling him about her pregnancy. She tried even harder not to think about how her breakfast was threatening to make a reappearance any moment now. She thought instead about how the school day was just beginning, how Pacey had a test in English, and how she didn't need to give him something else to worry about three hours before it. 

So she smiled and kissed his cheek as she walked toward the Witter Wagoneer. “I do, but nothing that won't wait until after school. Shall I quiz you on the way?”

She pretended not to notice the way Pacey's jaw clenched and shoulders slumped as he followed her to the car. He opened her door for her before heading around to the driver's side, and Joey marveled, as she always did, at how gallantry came to Pacey so effortlessly he didn't even realize how rare and special it was. She should tell him more often, but the scowl on his face choked the words in her throat.

Instead, she asked him to name the three biggest influences on the Lost Generation. Pacey answered correctly. In fact, he answered every question correctly. But the more right answers he got—or the more Joey praised him for them—the darker his expression, the tenser his shoulders, the tighter his grip on the wheel, became.

Also, the more the Jeep bumped along the creekside road, the harder Joey fought to keep her breakfast where it belonged.

“That's great, Pace! You shouldn't have any trouble with the test today.”

“You don't have to do this, you know,” he snarled back.

“Do what?”

“Be my little cheerleader. We both know no matter how well I do on this test, it's not going to do anything to stave off my life of impending mediocrity.”

“Pacey, pull over.”

Pacey glanced sideways at her but kept driving. “Sorry you're stuck with my self-pity, Potter, but I'm not letting you walk three miles out of spite.”

“Spite has nothing to do with it,” Joey hissed through gritted teeth. “Pull over now, or I'm going to ralph all over the dashboard.”

Pacey's anger turned immediately to worry as he pulled over, but Joey barely noticed. She didn't even make it out of her seat, just opened the door, stuck her head over the gravel and let fly. Only once her stomach was empty did she become aware of Pacey holding her hair back and asking repeatedly if she was okay.

“Fine,” Joey mumbled, though her head was splitting, she was covered in cold sweat, and her mouth tasted of bile. She grabbed an Altoid from her purse.

Pacey had yet to start the car. He was staring at her, concern etched across his face. “What was that, Jo? Have you been sick?”

_Lie_ , hissed one voice inside her head, while another one—which sounded suspiciously like a sanctimonious Dawson—insisted, _Tell the truth_.

Joey opted to continue her recent streak of putting off decisions. “Sort of. We'll talk about it later.” Pacey kept staring at her. She fidgeted, bit her bottom lip. Did not meet his eyes. “We'll be late for school!” She twirled her hair, pushed it behind her left ear. Did not meet Pacey's eyes.

A sharp, inward breath and muttered expletive finally brought Joey's head up to see his blue eyes, round as saucers, riveted on her face. “Jo, are you pregnant?”

She didn't confirm. She didn't deny. She sat there, a deer caught in headlights, and waited to see what he would do.

“You are, aren't you? You're pregnant.”

Joey thought she managed a nod. She was shaking badly enough she wasn't sure.

“Shit, Jo,” Pacey whispered. His eyes were bright, but his expression was unreadable. “Come here.” Without waiting for her to move, he gathered her into his arms and pulled her close.

Joey buried her face in the curve where neck met shoulder and breathed. It felt like the first free breath she had taken in a week. He smelled like sea and woods and _Pacey_ , and he was warm and solid and real when she hugged him back. She felt safe, as though part or her burden had already been lifted.

“What do you want to do?” he breathed in her ear. She could hear the controlled panic in his voice, but his hold around her didn't slip.

Joey shook her head against his shoulder. “I don't know yet, Pace.” She forced herself to pull away and smile at him. “For now, I want to go to school. I want you to do well on your test, and I want to not think about it for the next six hours. After that, we'll go somewhere and talk, figure it out together.” 

Pacey drew a ragged breath with a hint of a laugh in it. “How can my English test possibly matter compared to this?”

“What? You want our kid to grow up with a high school dropout for a dad?” Joey tried for a joke, but there were too many loaded words in that sentence. She wished them back even as she said them.

But Pacey caught them all and latched onto two. “ _Our kid_? You want to keep the baby?” He tried to sound nonchalant, but Joey could almost feel the hope radiating off him.

She hated to crush that—it was so long since she'd seen any hope in Pacey—but she had to be honest. “I truly haven't decided yet, Pacey. We have a lot of things to talk about—after your English test.”

Pacey chuckled ruefully as he started the car. “Yes, ma'am.”

~*~

Afraid Pacey would reintroduce the subject at lunch, Joey headed straight for the table where Jack and Jen were already sitting. She grabbed only a small packet of Saltines from the lunch line; the cafeteria smell was nauseating.

The best friends were continuing their never-ending debate about colleges, but tactfully changed the subject to prom as Pacey approached.

“What are you wearing, Joey?” Jen asked.

“Oh, Bessie's offered to make me a dress, if I decide to go.” Joey made room for Pacey. He sat sideways on the bench beside her, his right hand rubbing soothing circles on her lower back, while he picked at his food with his left. She saw him frown at her meager lunch and shook her head slightly, a warning not to bring it up in front of their friends.

“Why wouldn't you go to prom?” Jack asked. “Don't tell me your absentee boyfriend hasn't asked you yet?” He threw a fry of judgment at Pacey.

Pacey caught the fry and ate it with a shrug. “Of course I have. Little Miss Antisocial here just isn't sure she wants to experience the final rite of passage.”

“I don't see the point. I've had a lousy time at every school function I've ever attended. Why would I want to commemorate my senior year—which has been one of the best years of my life—” Joey squeezed Pacey's thigh, so he'd know how much a part of that statement he was. “—with yet another public disaster.”

Jack and Jen lectured Joey on the importance of senior prom, even while acknowledging it would inevitably suck. 

Joey tuned them out to focus on Pacey's hand covering hers on his leg, their fingers interlocking, fusing. His eyes watched her face in the tender, adoring way she loved, the look she'd seen so rarely lately, the one she had worried she would never see again.

_Love you_ , she mouthed to him.

_Love you, too_ , Pacey mouthed back. 

“You both disgust me,” Jen lied with a wide smile.

_Maybe_ , Joey allowed herself to hope for the first time, _maybe we can make it through this_.

~*~

Lucky if she heard one word in ten of her afternoon classes, Joey spent the remaining school hours planning and replanning her upcoming conversation with Pacey. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, so many things she wanted him to share with her, but she wasn't sure they could breach the wall of silence forming between them.

Not for the first time, she missed the _True Love_ , their magic summer, the easy intimacy, a barnacle for his thoughts. Maybe Pacey had been right all along; they never should have come back to Capeside.

After a hundred imaginary confrontations, the final bell rang. Pacey was waiting by her locker by the time Joey arrived. Without a word, he relieved her of her bookbag, slung it over his shoulder, and wrapped her hand in his. His expression was much bleaker than it had been at lunch, but whether this was from his classes, worry about them, or something entirely different, Joey couldn't say. He didn't tell her.

They walked to the car in silence, hand in hand, but with a feeling of the hangman's noose hanging over her.

Only when they were both inside the car—Pacey opened her door for her again, because of course he did—did he look at her and ask, “Where to?”

“Wherever you want.” In her afternoon musings, Joey had been unable to decide whether homefield advantage was something that would matter.

Pacey nodded as he started the car. “First things first. You need to eat something.”

Joey opened her mouth to argue, then abruptly closed it again. What was the point? He's seen her lose her breakfast, and her non-existent lunch. Plus, the nausea had passed for now, and she was ravenous. As if to second the point, her stomach rumbled. “Aye, aye, Cap'n,” she agreed instead.

Pacey shot her a smile and drove quickly—yet still silently—to the beach house. Joey was a bit surprised; after all, there was bound to be better food at the B&B. But Gretchen wasn't home, and perhaps Pacey didn't feel up to facing Bessie yet.

“How about a Joey shipboard specialty?” Pacey asked as he scrounged around the small kitchen.

A nostalgic half-smile flitted across Joey's face. “Sure.” She had grown immensely sick of fish aboard the _True Love_ in a remarkably short time, and might have eaten peanut butter sandwiches for breakfast, lunch and dinner if Pacey had let her.

He set one before her now, along with a glass of orange juice.

“Thanks, Pace.”

“Well, it's not exactly _haute cuisine_ , but I do what I can.” Pacey made himself a sandwich; for long minutes, they ate in silence.

This deafening silence rang in Joey's ears, like the gathering air pressure before a storm. Something had to break. And soon.

“So are we ever—” Pacey began at the same moment Joey blurted out, “We have to quit lying to each other.”

Pacey's face was purposely blank. She wanted to hit him. “What do you mean, Jo?”

“I mean I know you weren't fishing with Doug. I know you got drunk and were arrested. Gretchen told me. But she shouldn't have _had_ to tell me, Pacey, because I should have heard it from you!”

“Jo, I—”

“No, let me finish. I know I started this with my lies to Dawson and about Dawson to you, and I'm so sorry, Pace. Really, truly sorry, because I never want you to feel second-best with me, because you're not. You're _everything_. But we won't make it if we don't start talking openly to each other again. And if we're not going to make it, there's no point in even talking about this other thing.”

“I was embarrassed,” Pacey admitted, when she let him speak. He busied himself cleaning up their snack, so he didn't have to look at her. “That's why I didn't tell you. It was such a stupid stunt—ditching school to get drunk with Drue, who I don't even _like_ —but I felt like it didn't even matter, that nothing I did would ever matter, that I don't matter.” His hands rested on the edge of the sink, head bowed in defeat.

Joey wrapped her arms around him from behind. She laid her head between his shoulder blades and willed him to believe what she was about to say. “You matter to me, Pacey. Everything you do matters to me. You're thinking for two, remember?”

Pacey turned to face her, his arms folding around her waist. Carefully, his eyes searched her face as he asked, “Still just two, or is it three now?”

“I don't know, Pace. When I think about having this baby, I feel terrified, like my whole life is falling apart. But when I think about not having it, I feel sick, like I'd be losing a vital piece of myself. So I need to know what you want, what you honestly want.”

“I want you to do whatever is best for you.”

He meant it. She knew he meant it. But she also knew he wasn't being entirely honest with her. Still. It was infuriating. “It is just possible, you know, Pace, that whatever is best for _us_ is what's best for me.”

“What's best for you is Worthington and the quickest road the hell out of here. Let's face it, Jo, you deserve better than this place, and you deserve better than me.”

Tears stung her eyes. She grabbed hold of his face and cradled it between her hands. “Pacey Witter, you don't get it, do you? There is no one better than you. I could look through all of Worthington, or the eastern seaboard, or the entire world, and I would never find anyone who loves me like you do, or who I could love even half as much as I love you.”

He kissed her, desperate and yearning, then held her tighter as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. “I love you, Jo. I'm just so scared.”

“Isn't that usually my line?” she teased, stroking his hair where it fell on his collar.

Joey felt his laugh against her skin. “Yeah. Not exactly my finest hour, but you asked for the truth, and there it is. I'm terrified.”

She was more relieved by his honesty than she could have been by any show of bravado. “Of what?”

“Of screwing this up. Of losing you. Of not losing you, but having you resent me for losing your dreams. Of resenting you for giving them up for me.”

She pulled back and forced Pacey to look at her again. “Do you want this baby, Pacey?”

Pacey sighed and closed his eyes. His head rested against her palms as though he was too exhausted to hold it up any longer. “Yeah, I do. But I'm worried the main reason I want it is because it ties you to me, and that's stupid and selfish and a crap reason to have a baby.”

“Well, it's not the worst reason I've ever heard. It's also not the best one.” Joey smiled, bit her tongue between her teeth as she drew a reluctant smile from Pacey.

“Do _you_ want this baby, Jo?”

Joey drew a deep breath and tried to be as honest as he had been. “When I started to think I might be pregnant, I was horrified. I could almost see Worthington slipping away in front of me. It wasn't until after I took the test—really, not until after I held Dawson's baby sister—that I realized there's this whole potential person inside me. Part of you, and part of me, and I find that thought beautiful. But that doesn't necessarily mean it's the right time for it.” She bit her lip. _Honesty_ , she'd insisted. _Honesty_. “I want to go to Worthington, Pace. I know it's selfish, but I don't want to give it up.”

“Then you're going, Jo. Have the baby, don't have the baby, you're going to Worthington, if I have to work four jobs or sell my organs to make it happen.”

Joey nodded slowly, as her mind kicked into overdrive. “Okay then. What happens next is you and I are going to order a pizza—I'm still starving—and we're going to sit down and see if there's any possible way we can make it work financially, logistically and personally to have a baby and go to Worthington.”

Pacey grinned from ear to ear.

“What? Why are you so happy?”

“Remember our economics assignments? Andie and I had more problems than that, and I still walked away with a Viper.”

For the first time in a week, Joey laughed.

~*~

By the time the pizza arrived, they were already at work, papers spread across the table as Joey studied the problem harder than she'd studied for any test in her life.

The first hurdle was money. Babies were expensive; there was no getting around that. Fortunately, Bessie was a big believer in insurance—it had already saved them once when the Ice House burned down—so the medical costs would be minimal. Bessie had also saved most of Alex's baby clothes, so if they had a boy, he could have his cousin's hand-me-downs. If they had a girl, perhaps Gail would be willing to pass on some of Lillian's things—

“That's assuming the Leerys will still speak to me once I tell Dawson our big news,” Joey pointed out.

“You haven't told him yet?” Pacey pretended to be reading one of Joey's lists, but she could see his insecurities rising to the surface.

“No, I wanted to talk to you first. Only your sister and mine know so far, and I'd like to keep it that way until we decide for sure what we're going to do.”

“So how badly does Bessie want to kill me right now?”

“About as badly as I did at sixth grade camp when you put the snake in my tent.”

“Aren't you ever going to let that one go, Potter?”

“It was. A snake. In my tent.”

Pacey chuckled. “A gesture of love from a misguided boy, I assure you.”

“Uh-huh. Right.”

Joey finished her list of items they would need for the baby. Crib, stroller, car seat, high chair—even second-hand, they would add up. Plus, bottles, breast pump, baby monitor, pacifiers. A never-ending stream of diapers, possibly formula, eventually baby food.

Pacey whistled as he took in her final tally. Then he shrugged. “Who needs two kidneys anyway?”

“Pacey!”

“Kidding, Jo. I told you, I'll work as much as I need to. And we can live off ramen and peanut butter. Plenty of college students do that, even without the baby excuse.”

“And while you're working these eighty hours a week, and I'm going to class, who will be watching the baby?”

“Gretchen's thinking about moving back to Boston. She wouldn't mind some auntly babysitting duties.”

“And when she's busy?”

“I don't know, Jo. I'll work nights or something, so I can be with the baby while you're in class.”

“And when would you sleep? When would we see each other?”

Pacey watched her warily. “Having second thoughts already?”

“And third and fourth. I'm not convinced we can do this, Pace, but I'm not convinced we can't, either. But we have to figure this stuff out.”

“Maybe we should call it a night. I know the longer we wait, the harder it will be, but you don't have to decide tonight, do you?”

Joey shook her head. “Not tonight, but soon.” She'd done enough research to know that if she was going to have an abortion, she wanted it to be in the first trimester.

“Okay. So I'll give you a ride home, we'll both sleep on it, and start again tomorrow.”

“Why do I need to go home? I thought I'd stay here tonight.” Joey was proud of herself for suggesting that without dropped eyes or a stammer. She did blush, damn it.

“Isn't your sister already planning my gruesome murder?”

“About that...I might have exaggerated a bit. Bessie's disappointed, mostly in me, I think. But I told her we were always safe, that one must have ripped or something. She doesn't hate you, Pace; she's known you too long for that.”

“Dawson's known me even longer, and he's managing just fine.”

“Dawson doesn't hate you, Pacey. I thought you two were doing better lately.”

Pacey snorted. “And how long do you suppose that will last when he discovers I've impregnated his erstwhile soulmate?”

Joey rolled her eyes. “Who hates who again? You're dying to tell him, admit it.”

“I admit there's a gross male part of me that would like Dawson to know.” He took her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “But there's another part of me that knows how I would feel if the situation were reversed, which is how I know if he doesn't hate me now, he will very soon.”

He sounded so genuinely bereft that Joey couldn't stop herself from kissing his brow. “I'm sorry, Pacey. I never wanted to come between you two.”

Pacey laughed, a little bitterly. “Yeah, I'm sorry, too, but even if I'd known it would cost me Dawson's friendship? I wouldn't change a moment with you. Wouldn't, won't, can't stop loving you.”

Joey smiled, alive to the tips of her toes. “Well, that settles it. I'm definitely staying here tonight.”

Pacey smirked up at her. “Yeah?” He kissed her slowly, thoroughly, the way that made her heartbeat pound through her ears.

“Yeah,” she whispered, a breath away from his lips. “After all, what's the worst that could happen? I'm already pregnant.”

*~*~*

**III.**

Pacey came home, but nothing was the same. They didn't touch anymore. Joey wasn't sure if that originated with her or with him, but their relationship had been tactile from the very beginning—from before the beginning, when he pulled her braids and she pushed him in the mud—and its absence was galling.

Joey wanted to change it, but every time she thought to reach out, the specter of that antiseptic room stopped her hands.

They talked, they bantered, but every word felt forced, a script prepared to hide the deeper truths they both concealed. Joey couldn't remember the last time they'd been able to meet each other's eyes.

It felt like a slow, creeping disease, tainted and ugly. Like the strained days before her mother's death. Like cancer.

~*~

**I.**

The solution to their logistical problem came from an unexpected source. 

Joey was walking to class with Jen when another bout of morning sickness hit. She rushed to the bathroom without a word.

Jen, curious, followed her in and found her retching in an open stall. “Joey? Are you okay?”

“Fine,” Joey muttered, wiping vomit from her chin. She went to the sink to clean up without looking at her friend.

“Are you sure? Stomach flu sucks. You might as well take the day off. It's not like they're going to teach anything you don't already know anyway.”

“I said I'm fine, Jen.” She grabbed a piece of gum from her purse. Jen's eyes were wide when Joey confronted them in the mirror. “There goes the bell. We should get—” 

“Joey, are you pregnant?”

Joey wasn't telling people, but she was also a terrible liar. “Please don't tell anyone.”

“God,” Jen swore at a deity she didn't believe in, “of course I won't. Have you told Pacey yet?”

Biting her lip, Joey nodded.

“How'd he take it?”

“Great. Perfect, even. But I haven't decided if I'm going to keep it or not.”

Jen studied her face for a minute, then smiled softy. “Yes, you have. Congratulations, Mom.”

Angry for no reason, Joey stomped past Jen and started pushing all the stall doors open. The last thing she wanted was an eavesdropper making her the scandal of the school. Again. “It's not that simple. I still want to go to Worthington, and financially, we can maybe swing it, if poor Pacey works his ass off. But who's going to watch the baby? And Pacey's never lived in a house with a newborn. I have, and it sucks. How will I be able to study? We'll never get any sleep. Babies are only beautiful in the abstract.”

Oddly, Jen's smile only widened during Joey's diatribe. “Sure, but they're also cuddly and sweet, and that new baby smell? Better than any drug I've ever tried. Not to mention, the last time I heard you so passionate about anything, you were trying to convince me you _weren't_ in love with Pacey. So I say again, congratulations, Mama.”

Joey groaned and rolled her eyes. “Come on. We're late for class.”

~*~

Two days later—two days in which Joey kept trying and failing to justify the decision Jen said she'd already reached, two days in which she'd tried to make Pacey study at least a bit for his finals in the midst of their personal drama, two days during which Bessie repeatedly reminded her it was time to make an appointment at one clinic or the other—Jen plopped her lunch tray down across from Pacey and Joey and solved their second dilemma.

“It's decided. We're going to Boston Bay.”

Joey smiled. “I'm so glad, Jen. We'll be able to see each other sometimes.”

“I'm hoping for better than that. See, Grams is coming with us. She, Jack and I are looking for a place, and we want you two to join in on this little _Full House_ adventure. Don't worry, I haven't told them about the baby—”

“Who told you?” Pacey asked, but Joey shushed him.

“But when they do find out, in addition to paying lower rent than you would in some rathole by yourselves, you'll have three, free, live-in babysitters. How's that for logistics?” Jen finished triumphantly.

Pacey grinned at her. “Pretty good, Lindley. Pretty damn good.”

~*~

“So it's a definite no on prom then?”

“Definitive and complete no,” Joey answered cheerfully. “Unless you're willing to forgo our fine ramen dining for the next year.”

“And you're not upset at all about missing our senior prom?”

“Upset about losing a night to small talk with people I can't wait to never see again, dance badly to worse music, and pray the chicken dinner doesn't come up on me in front of the whole senior class? Please. I think this may be the happiest moment of my pregnancy. Possibly my life.”

Pacey chuckled, playing with a wayward strand of her hair. “In that case, Miss Josephine Potter, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to a small, private affair on Saturday next?”

“Pacey, it doesn't do any good to skip prom if you spend the money on some absurd surprise for me. I'm more than fine just hanging out, watching a movie.”

“Minimal expense, I swear. But it's prom night, Jo. Whatever you say, I want to make it a night you'll remember. Fondly, I hope.”

His pleading blue eyes weakened her resolve. “Less than fifty dollars?”

Pacey raised his hand, palm flat. “Swear on my grandmother's grave.”

“Fine. You got yourself a date.”

~*~*~

**II.**

Pacey's foot beat a nervous staccato against the tile floor. Joey placed a hand on his knee in an attempt to still it. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. She turned her palm up; their fingers interlocked. Pacey's foot stopped tapping.

Joey studied the other people in the waiting room. A teary girl who looked even younger than Joey sat next to a granite-faced woman who could only be her mother. Two women, well put-together and dressed for the office, gossiped in one corner; for the life of her, Joey could not decide which one was pregnant and which was the ride. Only one other man was present. A gray-haired executive in a business suit sitting next to a busty, much younger blonde. _Affair_ , Joey decided.

The door opened. “Josephine Potter?” the nurse called.

~*~*~

The consultation was a blur to Joey. Her doctor was named Wharton, had a kind voice and beautiful hands. Pacey sat beside her the whole time, fingers tangled with hers. He spoke only once, to ask about the risk to Joey. Minimal, assured Dr. Wharton.

Joey watched Pacey's pale face as she swallowed her painkillers and muscle-relaxants. “Maybe they should give you some of these.”

Pacey smiled feebly at her joke. “I'm all right.”

Dr. Wharton left them alone while the drugs took effect. Pacey's eyes darted restlessly about the room. Joey was fascinated by a picture on the wall.

“So prom's tomorrow,” Pacey said after minutes of strained silence.

Joey laughed. She couldn't help it. It was so absurd, waiting for an abortion while discussing the school dance like any normal teenager. “I'm sorry. You're right, it is. But I'm not going.”

“You have to, Jo. We already made plans with everyone, remember? And it's senior prom. You'll regret it if you don't.”

“I am not going to feel like celebrating a day after this.” Her gesture encompassed her body and the room around her. “You can go, if you want. Tell everyone I have the stomach flu or something.”

“Why would I go without you? If you really don't want to, I'll let Jen know we're opting out. We could have pizza and movies at the beach house, I guess.”

Joey's pills were kicking in. She felt loose, relaxed in a way she never, ever was. Her eyes took a catalog of Pacey Witter from his dark hair—he'd never had a good haircut, not as long as she'd known him—to his brow lines, the creases at the top of his nose where wrinkles would form one day. His eyes, ocean blue, deep and changeable as the sea he loved so much. His nose, too big to be handsome, but somehow perfect on his face. His mouth was thin, but his lips were soft and mobile, and his tongue knew just what to do. The baby-round cheeks, and the small scar from a sledding accident when they were eight. The chin, which would never be called strong, but gave his face a cuddly lovableness.

The broad shoulders and the biceps which were bigger than Dawson's, but not jock-level defined. The flat stomach—she wondered sometimes if it would stay that way as he aged; Pacey hated exercise regimens, regimens of any kind—and slim hips.

Joey giggled as she thought of the parts of him she couldn't see, his perfect ass and the protruding penis, which she couldn't say she found aesthetically pleasing, but she liked the feel of it inside her, filling a void she'd barely realized was there until him.

Jen had asked Andie once about Pacey's size. Andie had grinned, raised a brow, and said, “Look at his feet.”

Joey looked at Pacey's feet, in their big, brown boots. “You're so beautiful,” she told them.

Pacey snorted. “You're high as a kite, Potter.”

Joey pulled her eyes back to his face and grinned. “Yeah. Remember when mine got stuck in a tree, so you climbed up with me and untangled it, and Dawson sang, 'Pacey and Joey sitting in a tree,' until you got mad and threw mud at us both?”

Dr. Wharton poked her head in the door. “Everything all right in here?”

“She's as relaxed as she'll ever be.”

“I'm flying kites,” Joey agreed.

While Dr. Wharton readied for the procedure, Pacey pulled his chair even closer to Joey's side. He wrapped his arm over her head on the pillow and stroked her hair. He glanced at the doctor once, grimaced, and trained his eyes on Joey's face. She stared right back at him.

“Pace?”

“Yeah, Jo?”

“Promise me we'll take our kids kite-flying.”

Something flitted across Pacey's face, sad and wistful and aching. “Sure, Jo. Whatever you want.” He kissed her brow.

Joey grabbed hold of his face. “No, Pacey, _promise_ me.”

Pacey hesitated.

“And you're all done,” Dr. Wharton announced.

~*~*~

Joey had some minor spotting and pain over the rest of that day and the next. Nothing to be concerned about, according to what she'd learned. She'd suffered worse from her regular monthly.

Beyond the pain, what Joey felt most was relief. The worst had happened, but it was over now. Life could return to its regularly scheduled broadcast.

For the better part of those two days, Pacey never left her side. She wanted the comfort of her own room, so he hooked up a TV and VCR in there. He brought Joey her favorite snacks, rubbed her sore back, and was generally the perfect boyfriend she'd been missing the past few weeks.

“You're so good to me. What did I ever do to deserve you?”

Pacey looked up from the stack of videos with a rueful grin. “Something awful in a previous life.”

Joey rolled her eyes. “Can you ever just take a compliment? I'm tired of movies. Come here.” She patted the bed, and Pacey obediently made his way to her. “Let's read.”

So while their friends were dressing up and bidding adieu to adolescence through another meaningless ritual, Pacey and Joey curled together with her battered copy of _Anne of Green Gables_ between them and read the story of the fiery-tempered girl who broke her slate over a boy's head because he called her Carrots.

The sun went down. The moon rose. Joey listened to the hypnotic pull of Pacey's voice. She watched his face and reached a conclusion, easy as breathing. She put her hand across the pages, so Pacey would look at her instead of the book, and told him, “If I ever do have kids, Pacey, it will only be with you.”

Pacey closed the story, his expression shuttered. “You can't promise that.”

“And yet I just did.”

“You're going to Worthington in the fall, beginning your life. You're going to meet hundreds of new people, about half of whom, statistically speaking, will be men. You were smart enough not to tie yourself down with a baby. Don't be stupid and tie yourself down with me.”

Crushed, Joey searched his face. “What are you saying, Pace? Are you breaking up with me?”

Pacey reached out, cradling her jaw in his hands. “No, I'm not. I should, but I can't seem to make myself, even though I know it's what's best for you. I just want you not to feel obligated to—”

“Obligated! I don't feel obligated. I _love_ you, Pacey.” Joey grabbed his face in return and brought their foreheads together. “When is it going to enter your thick skull that I don't want an out? I don't want to meet someone new, and I don't believe there is anyone better. There's not another guy on earth who would have stayed here the last two days, watching 'The Princess Bride' and Disney cartoons and reading my favorite books. So stop ruining it.”

Pacey huffed a laugh. “As you wish.”

Joey grinned. She tossed the book back onto her nightstand and straddled Pacey's body. “Farmboy, give me a kiss.”

Pacey sat up slowly, eyes caressing her. “As you wish.”

~*~

**I.**

Bessie insisted on making Joey a dress, even though Joey pointed out there was no point when no one but Pacey would see it, and soon she'd be too big to ever wear it again.

“So you've decided? You're keeping the baby?”

“I think so,” Joey admitted, as she watched Bessie stick pins in the lavender satin wrapped around her still thin form, although she'd had to make alterations in the bust. “We've talked through most of the physical stuff—the wheres, whys, hows. I just want to make sure we're on the same page about, you know, us. But...I want it, Bess. We both do.”

Tears shone in her older sister's eyes as she hugged her—carefully, because of the pins. “Then I'm happy for you. It's going to be harder than you can possibly imagine, even with all your lists and charts, but it's going to be better than you can dream, too.”

“Thanks, Bessie. For everything.”

“What are big sisters for? Now, let's make you a dress that will knock that boyfriend of yours flat on his ass.”

~*~

“Wow.” Pacey hadn't literally landed on his posterior, but he took a step back and his jaw dropped as he surveyed Joey in her backless lavender sheath. “I never understood the word 'breathtaking' until this particular moment.”

“Shut up, Pacey,” she grumbled, but flushed with pleasure at the compliment. He didn't look half-bad himself in Doug's tux—the Broadway tux, Pacey usually called it, as it made its semiannual appearance whenever Doug went to New York to take in the new shows.

“My lady,” Pacey continued playing it up, offering her his arm. “Your carriage awaits.”

Joey giggled as she wrapped her hand around his elbow and followed him to Gretchen's car. “You're such a dork, Witter.”

“See? I told you! You're far too cynical for my romantic gestures.” He swung open the passenger side door and leaned on the top of it in his recklessly charming way. “Now shut up, get in the car, and try to remember for one night that you're a girl.”

“Not likely to forget it in these heels. Also, you're ridiculous.” She leaned across the barrier of the door to kiss him lightly. “And wonderful. Thank you.”

“Any time, Potter.” After helping her in, Pacey practically bounced over to his side of the car. He seemed like a whole other person since she'd told him about the baby. Or rather, he seemed like his old self—brash, uplifting, selfless—instead of the worried, bitter Pacey she'd adjusted to over the past few months. While she was thrilled with the change, Joey kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the _Pacey-can't-deal-with-Pacey_ side of his personality to come out.

She pushed the thought to the back of her mind and asked brightly, “So where are we off to?”

“You'll find out soon enough. Have some patience, woman!” He grinned at her.

To Joey's surprise, he drove them to the marina. She saw dozens of her formal-clad classmates boarding the rented prom boat. “Pace, I thought we'd—”

“Don't worry, Jo, that's not our stop.” Pacey parked the car a few blocks further on and then walked her to a much quieter section of the pier, where several small sailboats were docked.

“Pacey, I don't care how good a deal you got, I am not helping you restore another boat.”

Pacey laughed. “Not bought or even rented, just borrowed.” He jumped aboard one of the small craft and held out his hand for her to join him.

It took Joey a minute to recognize the boat. “Jack's dad's?”

“Yeah, it was actually Jack's idea. Figured he owed me after the fiasco at the regatta last year.”

“That wasn't Jack's fault,” Joey mumbled absentmindedly as she boarded. She was excited about the idea of a night sail with Pacey—she missed _True Love_ almost as much as he did—but, “I wish you'd told me we were sailing. I'm not exactly dressed for it.”

“That's okay, Jo. If your dress gets in the way, you can always take it off,” Pacey said, with a leer and a hilariously overdone waggle of his eyebrows.

“Pig,” Joey laughed, even as he took off his jacket and settled it around her shoulders.

For a while after that, all their conversation was about launching the boat. They fell easily into the rhythms they'd established during their summer at sea. Joey was surprised at how such a mundane ritual could make her so happy. Her dress wasn't really a problem, but she did take off her shoes and toss them in the cabin.

“Much better than a night spent dancing with pinched toes,” she sighed.

Pacey opened up her traditional space between him and the wheel, then wrapped around her, chin on her shoulders, hands expertly steering the small craft. “Not missing prom?”

“Not remotely.” She gazed up at the stars, growing ever clearer the further they got from shore. She listened to the gentle lapping of the sea against the hull.

“I think all my happiest memories involve you, the sea, and the stars,” Pacey breathed her unvoiced thought.

Joey nodded, knowing he could feel it, not trusting herself to speak. 

After several minutes of comfortable silence, a new thought came to her, one much less welcome, but one she had to question. “Pacey, if we have this baby, there's not going to be any sailing off into the sunset. Not for years and years, if ever. Are you okay with that?”

Pacey didn't answer. Instead, he lowered the anchor. “This seems like a good spot.”

“Good spot for what?”

“Dinner. You didn't think I'd bring you all the way out here and not feed you, did you? Give me some credit.”

“It better not be fish,” Joey grumbled, as Pacey drew her down into the cabin.

“Not fish,” Pacey promised. He led her to a chair at the tiny table and, with a flourish, produced a Tupperware container. “Voila! Cabbage and ramen sesame salad.” He pulled another dish out of the warming pan. “Ramen chicken stir-fry with mixed vegetables.” Finally, he unearthed a Ziploc bag from one of the cupboards. “And peanut butter cookies for dessert. I know I said less than fifty dollars, but it turned out less than twenty. You sure are a cheap date, Potter.”

Glowing, delighted, exhilarated, Joey laughed. “Pacey, you're unbelievable! This is perfect. Thank you.”

Pacey started dishing out their plates. “I figured we could use a little practice to adjust our palates. And to answer your earlier question...” He took her left hand between both of his and looked her straight in the eye. “I love sailing, Jo, but you are the great adventure of my life. I'm not going anywhere.”

Joey's heart warmed at Pacey's impassioned words, but a niggling worry at the back of her mind made her say, “What changed, Pace? A few weeks ago, I was afraid you were ready to throw in the towel on us. Now, you're more sure than you've ever been. It can't all be the baby.” She frowned. “At least I hope it's not. I don't want to be one of those women who trap a man with a kid, so if you're only staying because—”

Pacey grabbed her gesticulating hands. “Jo, Jo, Jo, relax! That is not what is happening here. I worry about the opposite, that maybe you'll feel stuck with me because of the baby.”

“I have never felt stuck with you, Pace. I've wanted to push you off a boat a few times, but even then, I always would have helped you back on.”

Pacey grinned, his thumb caressing her palm. “And it's that kind of forthrightness that's changing me, Jo. The way you've approached this whole pregnancy; you've been...rational isn't the right word, but logical maybe. I know that if you decide to keep this baby, it will be because you think we can do it, not because you're trying to humor me, or fix us. For so long, I've felt these walls being built around me, shutting me out from the world, the future, _you_. I've been dreading the day when I couldn't even see you through the cracks anymore. But it's like you took a sledgehammer to those walls. I can see a future for us now, and I want it, baby or no baby.”

“Baby.”

Slowly, the meaning of her one-word response dawned on him. Joey watched the joy diffuse across his face. “Baby? You mean it, Jo? You're sure?”

Joey nodded, smiling and crying at the same time. She would blame hormones if Pacey's face wasn't reflecting back the exact same sight. “I'm sure. We can do this, Pace.”

“And you _want_ to? It's not for my sake.”

“I'd do a lot for you, Witter, but I've seen labor. Trust me, I wouldn't go through that for anybody, if I didn't want it for myself.”

“God, Jo.” Pacey grabbed her and held her tight. He laughed through a voice choked by emotion. “I love you so damn much.” He kissed her fiercely; then he pulled away, his touch gentling, and sank to his knees before her. “And I love you.” He pressed a kiss to the curve of her belly; his hands cradled her hips.

Joey ran her fingers through his unruly curls and knew she'd made the right choice.

*~*~*

**III.**

The death blow, when it came, was almost a relief. Except it happened in front of three hundred of their fellow students, on prom night, on a boat. The boat was the part of the equation Joey found most difficult to accept. She and Pacey and boats meant magic and joy, not the bitter invectives Pacey hurled at her.

Joey was almost detached from the event itself. She heard Pacey's accusations and rejected them. They weren't true, as nothing about her and Pacey was true anymore.

_If you only knew_ , she thought, _if you only knew the real reasons you should hate me._

She walked away from the ashes of their relationship. Dawson followed her, but she sent him away. She had not told Pacey the truth, so her last act of loyalty to him would be to keep it from Dawson, as well.

Pacey found her later, not to undo the damage, but to soften the blow. “You deserve better than this place, and you deserve better than me.”

“You've got that backwards, Pace. You deserve better than me.”

He looked completely thrown by her words, but Joey didn't clarify. She just walked away.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

She considered abortion. She was an eighteen-year old high school student with a minimum wage job and a massive college tuition looming. Of course, she considered abortion.

But by the time she held baby Lillian in her arms, Joey had pretty much decided to keep it. She couldn't kill her baby for her own selfish convenience. She was scared to death, but she was going through with her pregnancy.

Bessie and Gretchen were the first to know. The next person to tell, obviously, was Pacey. Joey couldn't find a way to tell him on the phone. But once he came back, they were hardly ever alone. On the rare occasions they were, Pacey acted oddly distant. Or maybe Joey lost her nerve.

She finally concocted a plan that suited her for its sheer ludicrousness. While other senior couples were having the after-prom sex debate, Joey would tell Pacey the result of their ski trip tryst. At least no one could say it lacked originality.

That scenario never came to be. Pacey and Joey never had an after-prom. After prom, there was no Pacey and Joey.


	2. Chapter 2

**IV.**

The next day, Gretchen stopped by the B&B to see Joey. The look on her face was anything but friendly. “Are you still planning on having the baby?” she asked without preamble.

“Yes.”

“Then you've got to tell him, Joey.”

“Why? So he can have another reason to feel trapped with me?”

“You know he didn't mean half the things he said. He was hurt, seeing you and Dawson together like that.” Gretchen swallowed and looked away. “We both were.”

“That doesn't excuse the things he said to me.”

“So this is how you're punishing him, by not letting him know he's going to be a father? How incredibly immature of you.”

“I'm not punishing him. I just don't feel like having the conversation yet, all right?”

“If you don't tell him, Joey, I will.”

Joey sneered at a defiant Gretchen. “Because spilling my secrets is what you do best, isn't it, Gretchen?”

“He's my brother! You can't expect me to lie to him for you.”

“I expect you to respect the confidence I made in you as the friend you claim to be. I expect you, of all people, to understand my reluctance to bring a baby into a relationship that's falling apart. You never told your boyfriend about your pregnancy.”

“Yeah, I also didn't have the baby. And not to digress too far from the subject at hand, but my boyfriend was an unregenerate asshole. Pacey has his flaws, I'll admit, and he went way over the line with you last night, but he is, at the heart of him, a great guy. And you know that. He deserves to know he's going to be a dad.”

“Weren't you the one telling me Pacey can't handle anymore pressure? He certainly proved that last night. I'm not going to keep him trapped, feeling like nothing. No kid deserves to grow up in the middle of that.”

“So you've decided you're not going to tell him at all. How exactly do you plan to pull that off when you've both lived in the same small town your entire lives? Even if you head off to Boston, there's holidays and trips home. Do you really believe my brother is so dim he won't notice?”

“I haven't decided anything beyond the fact that it's not your business and not your right to tell Pacey. When, and if, I decide Pacey's ready for it, _I_ will be the one to tell him.”

Gretchen pinched the bridge of her nose. She looked like she hadn't slept at all the night before. _Join the club_ , Joey thought bitterly.

“Fine, Joey. You're right. It's your baby and your life. I'm just glad I'm out of here, so I don't have to see you wreck one of the best men I know. And that's not a sister's bias speaking.”

Joey was going to ask Gretchen what she meant about being “out of here,” but Gretchen left without waiting for another word. When Joey learned later from Dawson that Gretchen was taking a road trip before returning to school, she felt only relief.

*~*~*

**III.**

Joey had known the end was coming, but she wasn't prepared for the aftermath, for how the day to day tenor of life felt slightly off-kilter.

On Monday morning, she waited so long for Pacey to pick her up that when she finally realized she needed to drive herself, she was late to school. At lunch, she picked the tomatoes out of her salad and set them to the side, before remembering he wasn't going to eat them for her. He wasn't even there. Her shoulder ached at the end of the day, because Pacey hadn't carried her bookbag between classes.

She felt empty, as though someone had inserted another suction tube inside her, only this time they'd siphoned away her heart.

_Don't worry, Miss Potter_ , said the Dr. Wharton in her head. _It's a quick and painless procedure. You might experience some minor discomfort, but in the end, you won't feel a thing._

~*~

**I.**

She didn't second-guess herself through three straight day of morning sickness, or during her first prenatal exam, or even while writing her graduation speech and having a sudden vision of hurling in front of the entire town.

Her first doubt came when Mr. Kubelik told her the dean wanted to talk to Pacey at the next Worthington party. She drove straight to Pacey's after work and stumbled her way through an explanation. 

When she finished, Pacey shrugged. “So?”

“So what if they want to offer you a place at Worthington? They really liked you last time you met.”

“No, they really liked that guy I pretended to be. I don't have the grades for Worthington, Jo, and even if I did, I don't have the money.”

“If it weren't for the baby—”

“I wouldn't trade our baby for admission to every Ivy League school in the country. Besides,” he added, tickling her side, “One over-educated individual in our family will be more than enough.”

He made her laugh too hard to appreciate the thought of _our family_ the way she wanted to.

~*~

The dean didn't offer Pacey a place at Worthington. He offered him a job on a boat.

“I turned him down,” Pacey told her on the drive home.

“Turned him down? But, Pace, it was three months sailing the Caribbean!” It sounded like Pacey's view of heaven.

“Exactly. Three months a thousand miles away from you and the baby. The pay isn't enough to make our money worries go away, and nothing else could have tempted me. I'll start looking for jobs in Boston after graduation. Dougie has a friend there he thinks will give me a shot.”

Pacey was following through on his promise to stay. Joey hugged him tight and cried. This time, she was pretty sure it was the hormones.

~*~*~

**II.**

“I think I'm going to take the job.”

“What?”

They were driving home from the Worthington party. Joey had been lost in happy contemplation over how much more she'd felt like she fit in than last time, when Pacey's soft-spoken declaration turned her world off its axis.

“The dean's job offer. I'm going to accept.”

Joey blinked back tears he couldn't see in the dark. “But why?”

“Why would I rather spend my summer sailing the Caribbean than bagging groceries or flipping burgers? Hmm, Potter, let me think.”

“I know it's an amazing opportunity, but it's going to be our last summer all together before—”

“Before you and Dawson and the rest wipe this grubby, little town off your sandals and head off into the big, wide world, while I stay here, flipping burgers and bagging groceries.”

“I thought you were coming to Boston with me. You promised—”

Pacey banged his hand against the steering wheel. “I know what I promised, but I can't do it, Jo. I can't spend my whole life as the schmuck tagging along to your brilliance.”

“So you're breaking up with me.”

“Why is that always your first thought? This has nothing to do with us. This is about me. Something good happened to me tonight for the first time in a long time. It complicates things for us, sure, but can't you be a little happy for me?”

Happy that he couldn't wait to leave her? Joey turned her face to the door and declined to answer.

Pacey sighed, but didn't press the point. He drove in silence until they reached the creek turnoff. “Do you want me to take you home?”

The plan had been for Joey to spend the night at the beach house, but she was almost angry enough to change her mind. Only the thought that Pacey would be glad to be rid of her made her say, “No.” It emerged through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth.

When they pulled up to Pacey's place, Joey hopped out without waiting for Pacey to open her door. She stomped up the pathway. She could hear Pacey's footsteps hurrying after her. He caught her arm as they entered the glow of the porch light and turned her into him.

“Look, Joey, I love how brilliant you are. You're this shining light, and you're destined to live an extraordinary life. And I am grateful—so grateful—for every, single day of it you choose to spend with me. But watching you excel can't be all my life is about. I'll end up hating myself and resenting you, and that is the worst possible future I can imagine.”

Pacey sighed and took her hands, bringing them to his chest. “All that said, I love you more than anything in this world, and if you tell me to stay, I'll stay.”

_Ask Me To Stay_ , he had written once, in giant, imperfect letters. To prove her love, she'd done better and gone with him. She couldn't do that this time, and if she really loved him, she had to let him go.

Joey couldn't bring the words to her lips. She pulled her hands free and took a step back. “Let's go inside, Pace.”

Pacey's shoulders slumped, but he unlocked the door and ushered her through. They moved through the house in silent ritual. Joey flipped on the lights; Pacey threw his keys on the counter. She hung up her coat and toed off her heels. 

Pacey went to his bedroom. By the time Joey followed, he was pulling off his shirt, and there was a t-shirt on the bed waiting for her. Usually, she would have changed in the room with him. Tonight, she grabbed the shirt and headed to the bathroom. 

Joey had a toothbrush by the sink, a hairbrush in the drawer, tampons under the vanity. Stupid little touches of domesticity that she would miss every day he was gone. She changed her clothes, brushed her teeth, and stared at herself in the mirror for a long time.

When she emerged, Pacey was already in bed, hands under his pillow, face to the wall, back to her. Joey studied the line of his spine, the indents between his shoulder blades.

“Just the one trip?”

“Yes.”

“And then you'll come back to me?”

Pacey sat up, held out a hand to her. “I swear, Jo.”

Joey sat on the bed, cross-legged, and took his strong hand in both of hers. “Okay, rules. Number one—and this is huge—we are not broken up. You meet some island princess and decide you want out, you damn well better tell me before you so much as hold her hand.”

Pacey's blue eyes sparkled with amusement. “I think tribal chieftains went out when the tourists came in, but I take your point. I don't want to break up, and I'll never want another woman the way I want you.” He reached for her with his free hand, but Joey ducked away.

“Rule number two: anytime you're in port, you call me.”

“What's your number again?”

Joey swatted at him. Pacey caught her hand and used their momentum to push her onto the mattress, his body covering hers.

“Rule number three: come home. Whatever happens, you come home.”

“I will. I promise.” Pacey painted the words on her lips.

*~*~*

**III.**

The Worthington party had seemed like a second chance at life. But it all went nowhere. Pacey was offered a job in the Caribbean; Joey was headed to Boston. Pacey still loved her, but they couldn't be together.

Begging him to hold her for the night wasn't Joey trying to change that. She just needed to feel his touch again, craved it like an addict in withdrawal. _One more time,_ she bargained with herself. _One more time, and I'll be okay. I won't feel so cold and empty inside._

Pacey laid out a t-shirt and boxers for her. He grabbed sweatpants and a wife-beater for himself. They changed in silence. Joey's whole life had become silence, all the things she couldn't—wouldn't—say.

Pacey lay down on his back and watched her as she got into bed beside him. “Night, Jo.”

“Night, Pacey.” She turned on her side, away from him, as he turned off the light. She thought he would put his arm around her, like he always did, but Pacey didn't move.

Joey could hear him breathing on the other side of the bed. It reminded her of the first night, at Gwen's cabin, when every cell in her body had tingled with an awareness of him, while her mind screamed, _Do Not Touch_.

She felt neither of those things tonight, only a gnawing emptiness behind and around and inside of her where he should be. Unwilling to bear it any longer, she felt for his hands in the darkness and found them crossed over his chest. 

“Pacey, come here,” she insisted, tugging his arm over her, feeling his body roll after it.

Joey closed her eyes and breathed. She could feel his solid warmth at her back, the pressure of his arm against her ribs, the splay of his hand beneath her breast, where her heart beat— _it's still there_ , she marveled, _it still beats_. Pacey's exhalations tickled the back of her neck; his smell invaded her nostrils. For the first time in weeks, she thought she might sleep through the night.

Then she felt the brush of his lips against her neck. Her body became a live wire. 

Pacey kissed her throat, her ear, the line of her jaw. His fingers brushed the outline of her breasts, the hem of her shorts. “Joey,” he whispered, a plea she couldn't ignore.

She turned into his arms. Her mouth sought his, open, starving. Her hands roamed his arms, his chest, his unruly hair. They settled on his ass, urging him closer, always closer. Close enough he'd never leave.

Pacey kept repeating her name between heated kisses. It took a moment for her to realize he was trying to tell her something. “I need to grab protection, Jo.” 

Joey flinched, all her ardor wiped away in a moment. She could see again the stick with two lines, the room with the dentist's tools and the woman on the boat. “We can't do this, Pacey.” She disentangled herself from him. It hadn't been the required cycle yet for her pills to take effect, and she no longer trusted condoms.

Nodding, Pacey rolled away from her. “You're right. I'm sorry.” He was back where he'd begun, lying on his back, hands folded on his chest.

Joey wanted to tell him not to be sorry, that he'd misunderstood, she only meant _not yet_ , but the words froze on her tongue. To explain that, she'd have to explain about the pills, and the white room, and the stick. She'd made the decision to keep this burden from him, and she wouldn't undo it now.

“I'm sorry, too, Pace,” she whispered.

Joey laid awake for hours, until she was absolutely certain he was asleep. Then she wrapped her arms around his waist and put her head upon Pacey's chest. She listened to his heartbeat and felt him breathe.

~*~

**I.**

Dawson stopped by her house after school the next day. It was the first time he'd done so since she'd decided to keep the baby, so naturally she felt guilty at the very sight of him.

They hadn't made an official announcement yet, had decided to wait until after graduation to avoid as much gossip as they could. But Joey was now past her first trimester, and both Doug and Bodie had been let into the secret, so she could tell Dawson if she wanted to.

She hadn't made up her mind about that yet.

“Hey, Dawson, what's up?” she asked, pushing those thoughts to the side.

Dawson got the rueful, befuddled look that always presaged some revelation about girl trouble. “A lot, actually. Mind if I come in and talk to you about it?”

“Of course not. I'd love a break from practicing this stupid speech. What cruel sadist decided academic achievement and public speaking have to go hand-in-hand?” She led a chuckling Dawson to the kitchen where she grabbed him a soda and poured herself some milk.

“Probably the same ones who arbitrarily decided eighteen was the age at which we were capable of planning the direction of our entire lives.”

“Ah,” Joey said wisely.

“'Ah' what?”

“Ah, now I know what you need to talk to me about. Something has come up which has thrown your life plan out of whack. Luckily for you, that's something about which I have become expert these past few years, so lay it on me.”

Dawson smiled fondly at her. “I knew coming here was the right idea. You always make me feel better, Joey. How do you do that?”

The way he was looking at her was a little too close to adoration, so Joey turned away, rummaging for snacks. “Practice, I guess. Going to tell me the problem? Because my superpowers don't extend to mind-reading.”

“Gretchen wants me to go road-tripping with her this summer.”

“Oh.” Joey's heart leapt. Wonderful, wonderful Gretchen was going to take Dawson away for three months, so she wouldn't have to feel bad every time she looked at him, or have to spend her summer refereeing fights between him and Pacey. Her relief was so palpable that she felt guilty for it. Dawson was her best friend; she didn't actually want to be rid of him their last summer at home. “That sounds fun,” she said cautiously.

“Yeah, it does. But at the end of it, she goes to Boston, and I go to California, and then what will I have left? Not to mention, I'll have missed my only chance to spend time with my baby sister and what may be my last chance to spend time with you.”

“Don't say that, Dawson. We're lifelong friends; that's not going to disappear just because we live on different coasts for a few years.”

“Maybe not, but I keep thinking, three times unlucky.”

“Huh? You lost me.”

“Two summers ago, I was in Philadelphia. Last summer, you were sailing with Pacey. What if we miss this summer, and that's it—your life goes one way, mine another?”

Joey felt a pang of loss. That was exactly what was going to happen, whether Dawson stayed for the summer or not. Granted, they weren't as close anymore as they used to be, but she could never forget all he had been to her. She once thought he could be her whole life; now, she'd be happy if he was willing to stay in it at all.

“I can't be part of your decision on this one, Dawson,” she told him sadly.

“Oh, don't you start this now!”

“Start what?”

“Gretchen has this ridiculous notion that the reason I won't go is I'm still in love with you.”

Joey wanted to throw up. For the first time in months, it had nothing to do with morning sickness. “But you're not, right?”

“Well, obviously, a part of me will always be in love with you, just like part of you will always be in love with me. But that doesn't mean that I don't love Gretchen, or, or that I'm incapable of having a life with someone else.”

She had to tell him the truth. She owed it to Pacey, to herself, and, weirdly, most of all, to Dawson. “Dawson, you're my best friend in the whole world, and you're one hundred percent right if you believe that I will love you until the day I die, because I will. As a friend. But I'm not in love with you. I haven't been for a long time, if I ever was, and I won't be again. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but you need to understand and accept that because...because Pacey and I are going to have a baby.”

Joey had seen photographs of people surveying the wreckage a tornado had left of their homes. Dawson's face after her confession reminded her of nothing so much as those pictures.

“A, a baby?”

Joey nodded, biting her lip, hating herself for what she had said.

“You're...you're sure?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She didn't mean to whisper; her throat was dry as dirt.

“How long?”

Joey forced herself to swallow before she could speak. “Just over three months.”

Dawson's face was ashen. She wanted to ask if he needed to lie down, but didn't think the question from her right now would make it any better. “So you've known for a while now.”

As though on strings, Joey jerked her head up and down.

“And you're definitely keeping it?”

Again, Joey nodded. She wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words, so she let Dawson struggle through his halting cross-examination.

“And Worthington?”

“I'm still going to Worthington.”

“Are you sure, Joey? Because balancing school and a baby alone will be incredibly difficult.”

“I won't be alone. Pacey will be there.”

“Pacey? Pacey's lucky to find a pair of matching socks in the morning! There is no way he's mature or responsible enough to raise a baby!”

In that moment, Joey saw in Dawson all the things Pacey had warned her about. The sneering judgment and self-righteousness, the sense of entitlement, and a twisted jealousy. “I need you to leave now, Dawson.”

“I'm sorry, Joey, but you know it's true. If he graduates at all, it will be by the skin of his teeth. How can he possibly support himself, let alone you and a baby?”

“I said, leave.” Since he didn't take the hint, Joey marched to the front door and threw it open.

In a last, desperate gamble, Dawson grabbed both her arms and begged, “Come with me, Joey. To California. I don't have to go to film school. I can get a job, best boy or assistant director or something. I'll take care of you and the baby. I won't care that it's his, and I'll never even mention—” Seeing the stoniness of her expression, Dawson began to weep—ugly, large, self-pitying tears. “God, Joey! How could you do this to me?”

“I didn't do anything to you, Dawson. I can't help it if you think I did. Now, please, go. You're making this worse for both of us.”

“Joey—”

A strong hand came between them and started drawing Dawson out the door. “Joey asked you to leave,” Bodie said, kindly but firmly. “I suggest you listen.” He maneuvered Dawson out the door, shut and locked it behind him.

“Thanks, Bodie.” Joey sagged against the wall, drained as if she'd run a marathon.

“No problem. You all right?”

“Just tired. I think I'll take a bit of a nap.” Numb, she went to her room, closed the door, lay down on her bed. She waited for the tears to come, but they never did. She had lost her oldest friend in a matter of minutes, and all she felt was empty. Empty.

~*~

She awoke to Pacey's soft voice and even softer touch, as he traced his fingers down her arm from shoulder to wrist. “Hey, Jo, you okay? Bessie saved supper for you.”

In the blink of an eye, her fight with Dawson returned to her. “Pace, I—”

“I know, Jo. It's okay. Bodie told me. You all right?”

She nodded, not lifting her head from the pillow, savoring Pacey's soothing touch. She could almost feel warmth spreading from his fingers to that cold, barren place Dawson had left. “It was inevitable, I guess, that I would lose one of you, but I wish it hadn't ended like that.”

“You won't lose him. Dawson will calm down and see sense, like he always does. He'll accept what he has to, to keep you in his life.”

“Maybe. But I'm not sure my life has room for him in it, room for anyone who can't see what an incredible man you are.”

Pacey's hand stilled, cupping her elbow. “You could find yourself cutting a lot of people out of your life that way. Despite what you think, I'm not worth much, Potter.”

Joey levered herself up and into his arms. “No, not worth much,” she agreed. “Worth _everything_.”

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

“So how far along are you?” Jen asked nonchalantly, while Joey lost her lunch in the girls' restroom at school.

Joey flushed the toilet and made her way to the sink to clean up. “What are you talking about? I think it's food poisoning from the tuna surprise.”

“Food poisoning doesn't last a solid month, and it doesn't do _that_ to your rack.” Jen gestured to Joey's rapidly expanding cup size, only partly hidden by her baggy sweater.

Joey glared at the petite blonde through the mirror but said nothing. 

“So you do know. Good, I thought you might be in denial about it. Does Pacey know?”

“No, and you can't tell him, Jen.”

“Why? If this is about the breakup—”

“He has finals this week. He needs to concentrate on them.”

“And after that, you'll tell him, right?”

Joey declined to answer. She started walking to class. Jen followed her, even though her history class was the opposite direction from Joey's physics.

“Are you going to end it, Joey? Because I totally understand and support your right to do that, and it would explain your reluctance to tell Pacey, even though I think he'd stand by you, no matter your decision.”

“I'm not having an abortion,” Joey hissed. Her eyes darted along the hallways, searching for eavesdroppers.

“Then why won't you tell Pacey?”

Joey was tired of this question. In addition to her run-in with Gretchen, she'd had to fight it out with Bessie, who wanted her to tell Pacey so he could “man up” and “take his share of the responsibility.”

“Because I'm a vindictive bitch, all right? That should come as no surprise to you of all people.”

“Joey, that is _not_ it. Why—”

“Look, I'm not interested in having a pity boyfriend or—God forbid—a pity husband. I can handle this on my own. Since you insist on being my friend, despite my doing everything possible to forestall it, I hope you'll respect my wishes and keep this to yourself.”

Jen looked saddened and annoyingly sympathetic after Joey's outburst. “Of course, Joey. And please remember, you're not alone. I'm here for you.” She hugged the taller girl then ran to make her own class before the bell rang.

*~*~*~*

Nothing that happened with Pacey over the next few days changed Joey's opinion on his need to know, not the Worthington party, not his rejecting her offer of friendship, not even his apology for his behavior at prom. She wasn't angry at him—at least not for long, not after seeing how terrible he felt—and she wasn't withholding the news out of a desire to punish him, whatever Gretchen thought.

Gretchen was right about one thing, however. Pacey was a great guy, the kind of guy who, when he found out he got a girl pregnant, would do the noble thing and stay with her. For the baby's sake.

Joey didn't want him on those terms. Either Pacey loved her and wanted to be with her for her own sake, or he was free to leave. She didn't need a martyr for a boyfriend.

She hadn't yet decided how to handle the situation once she started showing. Her best idea so far was to be blasé about the whole thing. Offer to let him have some time with the kid if he wanted, but put him under no obligations. Part of her wished he might believe the baby was someone else's, but Pacey knew her too well to think she'd sleep around.

She still loved the jerk too much to let him think it was Dawson's.

~*~

**I.**

Dawson didn't speak to either of them over the last few days of school. Jen got tired of playing peacemaker. Jack, unable to understand the sudden rift in the group, had to be let into the secret. He was sort of freaked out, but mostly supportive.

Pacey's graduation status was up in the air until his very last final. Joey paced the hallway until class let out, then pushed against the crowd to sit beside him and hold his hand while Mr. Kasdan graded it. Their palms were both sweaty with nerves and heat, but Joey didn't let go.

“Congratulations, Mr. Witter,” Mr. Kasdan said with a smile. He handed back the test with a large A- in red ink across the front.

Pacey stared down at it in shock. “I did it? I did it!” With a shout, he grabbed Joey by the waist and swung her around. 

Laughing, Joey filed this moment as her last memory of Capeside High.

~*~*~

**II.**

She helped him pack up his battered old dufflebag. “I can't believe you're missing graduation.”

“It's either that or miss my boat.”

“But you worked so hard for this, Pacey!”

“For the diploma, not the ceremony. Everyone who matters already knows I made it.” He kissed the nape of her neck as he leaned over her to drop in a badly folded pile of shirts. “I'm sorry to miss your speech, though.”

Joey scowled as she started refolding his laundry. “You've heard it three times already.”

“Yeah, but not in the cap and gown. I bet that's a major turn-on.” Pacey grabbed her hips and pulled her into his body.

“Pervert. You're crushing your shirts.”

He took them from her and tossed them haphazardly back into the bag. “There. Packing's done.” He claimed her mouth in a lingering kiss.

Joey reluctantly broke it. “There's still a lot to do, Pacey. You need new boat shoes, and we should look for some used books to take with you. You still have to say goodbye to your parents, and Bodie's making a going away dinner.”

Pacey occupied himself during her little speech by trailing kisses along her jaw. When she was done, he pulled back just long enough to remind her, “Three months, Potter.” His teeth found her earlobe and tugged.

Joey moaned. “I suppose a little break...” Her hands snaked their way under the hem of his shirt, while he divested her of hers. “...might help us...” Pacey dropped to his knees, his mouth tracing the curve of her belly, the angle of her hips while his busy fingers made quick work of her shorts. “...focus better.” She dragged his mouth back up to hers.

“Funny, you never bought that argument when we were studying.”

“Shut up, Witter.” Joey pushed Pacey back on the bed and climbed on top of him.

“Now, this is what I call a going away party.”

~*~

**I.**

Joey watched Pacey and Andie from inside the restaurant as they talked by the bonfire. It was strange, given how much Pacey had once loved her, how little Joey ever felt threatened by Andie. Or maybe not so strange. It was the trust that came with knowing how much Pacey loved _her_ now.

The strongest emotion Joey felt towards Andie was pity, or maybe empathy. Not for her family problems; they all had those in spades. Not even for her mental health problems, which Andie had—as far as Joey could see—dealt with beautifully. 

No, Joey pitied her for a much more prosaic reason. Andie once had Pacey, and then she lost him. Andie lived a life post-Pacey, a life where Pacey had ceased to love her. One could—and did—argue that Andie had no one but herself to blame for that, but still Joey pitied her, pitied her with a trace of, _there but for the grace of God—and not sleeping with other boys—go I_.

She watched them now and wondered if she would ever be content with that sort of sweet, nostalgic kindness from Pacey. If she ever lost him, would it be enough to stay in his orbit as a friend? Or would she rather he cursed her very memory, as some sort of proof of a lingering hold on him? She hoped she would never find out.

Pacey stood and held out a hand to help Andie to her feet. He was in high spirits tonight, graduation tomorrow, school finished—for him—forever. He threw his arm around Andie's shoulders and dragged her inside. 

“Joey! Look who's back!” He beamed from his ex-girlfriend to his current girlfriend, and because he was Pacey, what could have been totally awkward wasn't uncomfortable at all.

“Andie, it's good to see you again.” Joey hugged her. “How's Florence?”

“Beautiful. Magical. A dream. But it's nice to be home for a bit, too.”

“A bit? Isn't Harvard next on the list?”

“Eventually. But I'm just not ready yet.”

Joey nodded, wondering whether Andie's decision was about Florence, Harvard, or Pacey, but not rude enough to ask. “Well, you're very much missed here. Jen and I have always needed a buffer zone.”

Andie laughed. “You seem to be doing all right. And don't think I've forgotten our pact! Five years from the day, Jen's non-birthday, the three of us, where are we now? Although you've already proven Jen's prediction wrong. Pacey told me about the baby.” There was only the slightest faltering of her smile as she added, “Congratulations.”

Joey thanked her, admiring her kindness. But she wouldn't trade places with Andie for a lifetime in Florence.

Talk moved on to other matters. Jack and Jen joined them. Eventually, even Dawson did, ostensibly to see Andie, but also to pretend not to see Joey and Pacey. Pacey squeezed her hand, but Joey shrugged and rolled her eyes.

“Do you realize this might be the last time we're all together?” asked a slightly tipsy Jen.

“We said that six months ago when Andie left,” Jack pointed out. “And yet here we all are.”

“And we're all going to be at that thing tomorrow with the caps and gowns,” Dawson added.

“Oh, fine! You people have no appreciation for sentiment.”

“Sediment? Isn't that the crap at the bottom of the creek?” Pacey joked, but he pulled Jen in for a sideways hug and kissed the top of her head. 

“I was only trying to tell you jerks that you're the best friends I've ever had, and I love you all so much.”

While Joey tried to speak past the lump in her throat, Jack relieved Pacey of Jen's tilting frame. “Okay. Bed for you, or you won't be sober enough to accept your diploma tomorrow. Night, all. Andie, you coming?”

“Just a sec, Jack.” To Joey's surprise, Andie ran over and hugged her, but it made sense when she whispered in her ear, “Make him happy.”

“I'll do my best,” Joey promised.

Andie ran off with a wave to the boys. And somehow, someway, Joey was standing there between Pacey and Dawson. Again.

Pacey cleared his throat. “I'll go get the car, Jo. You should talk to him.”

“No, Pacey, I'll—”

“Pacey, wait,” Dawson surprised them both by saying. He sighed and ran both hands through his hair. “I owe you both an apology. I thought I'd gotten past all this, when I'd only buried it. But listening to Jen...drunk as she may have been, she's right, you're my best friends. I wish I could say I'm happy for you, but until I can, I want to say I wish you both nothing but the best.”

Pacey was the first one to react. He threw his arms around Dawson and pounded his back in one of their ridiculous man-hugs. “Thanks, man. I'm sorry, too, and I'd wish you the best, but you don't even need it. Someday, soon, we're all going to be saying we knew you when.” Pacey stepped back, and they both looked expectantly at Joey.

She smiled at them both, the two people in her life who truly knew her and always would. “You're forgiven,” she told Dawson as she hugged him. “Of course, you're forgiven.”

After they said their goodbyes, Joey walked back across the sand hand-in-hand with Pacey.

“Barnacle at a future time for your thoughts right now?” he asked.

“I was thinking that my life is a lot fuller than that scared, motherless little girl would ever believe. I have Bessie and Bodie and Alexander. I have Dawson and the Leerys, Jen and Jack and Andie. And soon, I'll have this baby.” She tucked her arm through Pacey's and rested her head on his shoulder. “But mostly, I have you and the security of going to sleep every night knowing I am loved.”

“That's a pretty big thought for a layaway barnacle,” Pacey teased. But he pulled her hand to his lips and kissed it.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

At the pre-graduation party, Pacey told her he needed to go off and live his own life for a bit. Joey had never felt so torn between relief and heartbreak. It would be much easier to keep her pregnancy from him if he wasn't around, but it meant the death of the last faint hope that he would come back to her, without the baby as lure.

“So hypothetically speaking, if I were lucky enough, one day, to find myself owning a sailboat again, and I were to ask the woman I love to go sailing with me, would she?”

Joey melted inside. There was still hope. Even now, there hovered between them a spark of possibility. “You wouldn't have to ask, Pace.”

That was the last she saw of Pacey Witter for a very long time.

*~*~*

**III.**

“Pacey Witter,” announced Principal Peskin.

Joey gasped. When she hadn't seen Pacey at graduation, she'd assumed he hadn't managed it, but...

“Pacey Witter?” the principal asked a second time, but when no tall, brash underachiever crossed the stage, he moved on to, “Sarah Wolsey.”

Joey reminded herself to breathe. Pacey had done it. She was so proud of him, she wanted to tell him so, and...she'd probably never get that chance. 

He'd known. Last night, Pacey had known he'd made it, and that he wasn't coming to graduation. All that stuff about hypothetical boats was his way of saying goodbye.

Panic bloomed like a thorny rose in Joey's chest. She didn't want to be here anymore. She didn't want to throw her cap, or pose for pictures, or force a smile.

That suction tube was after her heart again. She wanted to hide someplace alone and safe, somewhere she could hear the sea and dream about boats, past and future.

“Smile, Joey!” Bessie ordered.

Joey smiled.

~*~

**I.**

They graduated. Joey got through her speech, and Pacey crossed the stage, and they all got soaked from Drue's prank with the sprinklers.

Dawson took a road trip after all, a solitary one, to “find himself” on the way to a summer program at USC. Andie stayed a few weeks, mostly helping Jack pack, then flew back to Italy. Jen and Grams were busy preparing their house for sale, while looking for a place in Boston.

Pacey kept his word. Within forty-eight hours of graduation, he had his first job, a prep cook at a Boston restaurant, Civilization, owned by a friend of Doug's. Within a week, he was picking up extra work unloading fishing trawlers and freighters in Boston harbor. Within two weeks, he had a third job, working security at a marina.

Until Mrs. Ryan finalized on a house, he was sleeping in his car—the Witter Wagoneer, a gift from his father, when they told him about the baby—only returning to Capeside when he could string together a few days off in a row. He tried to arrange those times for Joey's doctor appointments, but he couldn't always manage it. The time he missed her ultrasound, he apologized for a solid hour.

In her head, Joey understood. They had talked about all this. She was working as many hours as she could at the yacht club before school started. They both knew there would be no point in her finding a job after that, at least until the baby was a few months old. Later, she would have to work, at least part-time.

So Joey understood. What was hard on them personally was necessary financially. But her heart and her hormones conspired to make her a nervous wreck most of the time. She missed Pacey, a constant ache. She worried he was pulling away again, that she would lose him, that he would decide this kind of life wasn't worth it, and she would end up alone—with a baby to raise—after all. And she was at the disturbing stage of her pregnancy where she craved sex nearly all the time, and Pacey wasn't there.

All of which meant that when Pacey actually was home—home at the moment a nebulous term for Pacey which translated into the Potter B&B, because Joey was there—she sought constant verbal and physical proof of his love for her. 

Joey was afraid she was turning into a nag; she was afraid Pacey wouldn't desire her thickening body, while she had never wanted him more. And she was frustrated, trying to find time alone with him when they didn't have a place to call their own.

Through his exhaustion and overwork, Pacey somehow managed to decipher the root of her mood swings. He finagled a weekend off, borrowed Mr. McPhee's boat again, and took Joey sailing. He undressed her reverently, caressed every new or expanded curve of her body, told her she had never been more beautiful to him. Didn't stop proving it until she believed him.

The sailing trip helped, but when Jen told her the Boston house was settled, Joey wept for joy.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Her first contact with Pacey came about a week after he left. An ugly postcard of the Miami International Airport, with her address on the back, and only the cliched _Wish you were here_ for a message. He didn't even sign it.

But the postcards kept coming all summer, sometimes not one for a couple of weeks, sometimes three or four in a day. The pictures featured were eclectic, from gorgeous beaches to tourist trap bars. The message was always the same.

It didn't take Joey long to figure out that the postcards were from the exact locations Pacey was at when he sent them. She wasn't sentimental enough to track his journey with pins and a world map. But she did save the postcards.

*~*~*~*

“I'm pregnant,” she blurted out as Dawson's lips descended towards hers.

He jerked back as though she'd slapped him. “What!?”

“I'm pregnant.” Joey felt the absurd urge to apologize to Dawson, but she resisted. This had nothing to do with him.

“That son of a bitch! How could he run off sailing while you—”

“Pacey doesn't know. I didn't tell him. And you may now consider yourself sworn to keep this from him, too.”

Dawson frowned, running his hands back through his hair. “Why? You should tell him, Joey. I know I've said a lot of crap about him, but when if comes right down to it, Pacey will do the right thing.”

“The right thing?” Joey snorted. “Get real, Dawson. This isn't 1953. I don't need a shotgun wedding to preserve me from the scandal. And luckily, we Potter women have been through this before, remember? My reputation as white trash was assured years ago.”

“Joey, this is serious. Stop being so flippant!”

“Sorry, Dawson, I threw up all my serious today. I can offer you something in sarcastic, if you'd like.”

“I should transfer to Boston Bay, so I can be here if you need me.”

“That's sweet, Dawson, but no. Live your dream at USC. This isn't your problem.”

“Joey, you're my best friend—and more than that. Your problems are always my problems. I want them to be.”

Tears pricked Joey's eyes at Dawson's fervent words. But over the summer, as her dormant Dawson feelings began to stir, she'd done some thinking. A lot of thinking. And reached an inescapable conclusion. “This one can't be. Dawson, I don't know how to say this. I know, deep down, you've always hoped that you and I might someday be involved again.”

“We're always involved, Joey.”

“Romantically, I mean. And I won't lie and say I've never considered it. I have. Not as often as your ego might like, but more often than Pacey could accept.” Joey shrugged off the end of her grand passion with a sad smile. “But this baby changes everything for me. I did Pacey a horrible wrong by not telling him about this baby, and I did it for totally selfish reasons. _I_ wanted to be the reason he stayed. I still want that, and I won't undo what I've done because of it. 

“But I can't be cruel enough to gut him by then letting you, of all people, help raise his child. It wouldn't be right, and it wouldn't be fair. To you, as much as anybody. Not when we'd both think of him every time we looked at the baby.”

Dawson closed his eyes, sighed, and let go of the adolescent dream. “Can't I do anything to help, Joey?”

“You paid for my first year at Worthington. That's about as far away from nothing as I can imagine. Beyond that, you can be cool Uncle Dawson, who sends this kid more movie posters than it could possibly need to cover its walls with.”

Dawson's mouth tipped in a rueful grin. “I love you, Joey.”

“Love you, too, Dawson.” Joey stepped out his bedroom window for the last time.

*~*~*

**III.**

Dawson kissed her. In the exact same spot, in the exact same way he'd kissed her the very first time (at least the first time that counted). It was a nice kiss. It certainly wasn't his fault Joey was empty inside. He didn't even know about the missing tissue where her heart should be.

“Night, Dawson,” Joey said when he pulled away.

“Night, Joey.” Dawson looked pained, but he'd live.

It might be cliché, but it was amazing, Joey thought as she climbed down the ladder, absolutely incredible, the things you could live through.

~*~*~

**II.**

The summer after graduation was an excruciatingly hot one. And long. And dull.

Joey continued to work at the yacht club. She continued to hate it. She counted the days between Pacey's phone calls and spent hours after them analyzing every word, every tone, trying to decide if he sounded happy, if that was a good thing.

In Pacey's absence, she threw herself into her friendship with Dawson. Jen and Jack would be in Boston come fall, but Joey's oldest friend would be clear across the country. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to not have his window to crawl through, Saturday movie nights, or his rose-colored way of looking at the world. Joey didn't even consider that Dawson might be misreading her nostalgic fondness.

Until he kissed her.

Shocked, Joey allowed the kiss for a few seconds before pushing him gently away. “What do you think you're doing?”

“I thought that was self-evident, Joey. I'm kissing you.” He leaned in again, but Joey locked her arm against his chest, restoring her personal space.

“Did you hit your head on something hard today and forget that I have a boyfriend?”

“A boyfriend who left you, left the freaking country, and won't be coming back.”

“That's not true!” Joey screamed, angry at Dawson for speaking her deepest fear. “Pacey will be back in the fall. He promised me.”

“And Pacey never breaks his word, right? Except to me, and Miss Jacobs, and Andie. But I'm sure it's different with you. Because this time, it's 'true love.'” Dawson sneered.

Too angry and hurt for words, Joey shoved her friend away and turned to the window for escape.

Dawson stepped in her path. “You're mad because you know I'm right. What you and Pacey had might have been real, and it was clearly intense, but it's over now, Joey. What you and I have? That's something that will never die.”

“You're right, Dawson. On its own, our connection, our _friendship_ , will last forever. But you could kill it stone dead if you don't stop talking about Pacey right now. Whether you want to admit it or not, he's been part of our lives, part of this equation, for as long as we've known each other. And that's not going to change either.”

She pushed past Dawson and out the window.

~*~*~

Dawson apologized the next day. Joey forgave him, and they both pretended it had never happened. But Joey stopped being so unguarded in her affection for him. She had no desire for a repeat performance.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey was folding laundry with Bessie when their doorbell rang. They weren't expecting guests at the B&B that night, nor company of any sort. It turned out to be a somber Mrs. Ryan and a gleeful Jen.

“Good evening, Elizabeth. Josephine, my granddaughter and I have something to discuss with you.”

“Okay, shoot.” Something about Mrs. Ryan's formality always made Joey want to be as boorish as possible.

“I realize you are pregnant, Josephine.”

Joey opened her mouth to berate Jen for telling, but Mrs. Ryan held up a hand for silence.

“Jennifer did not tell me. The signs are obvious to anyone who knows what to look for, and will soon be obvious to anyone with eyes. Once I surmised the truth, I went to my granddaughter for further pertinent information before deciding to make this proposal.”

“What proposal?” asked Bessie, even more eager than Joey to hurry Mrs. Ryan along.

“While I do not approve of the behavior which got you in this situation, nor of your choice to hide the truth from the father, nor your unwillingness to view adoption by some nice, stable family as your wisest course of action—”

“Here we go again,” muttered Bessie.

“I am proud of you for deciding to carry this baby to term and still attempt to pursue a higher education. To aid you in which end, we would like to offer you a place to stay with us in Boston.”

“And I'm here to say everything Grams said, but in a nice way. Joey, I know the dorms are out for you with the baby coming, and the Capeside commute is just not practical. And did I mention this offer comes complete with free baby-sitting? Come stay with us.”

Joey was overwhelmed. Her living situation come fall term had been one of the major stresses in her life. She had confided it to Jen, but hadn't expected a solution. Even knowing it meant living with Mrs. Ryan, she could conceive of no better option. “Thank you both so much. I don't know what to say.”

“Just say yes, so I can get Grams out of your hair.” Jen leaned her head against her grandmother's shoulder, which took the sting from her words.

Joey smiled and said yes.

~*~

**I.**

Even though there were still two weeks until school started, Joey quit her job and told her sister she wanted to head to Boston right away. Bessie showed surprisingly little resistance. Probably she was so sick of Joey's foul mood, she was happy to let Pacey take his turn with what pregnancy hath wrought. Bessie and Bodie helped her load the truck and set out the next day.

Pacey, already in Boston, had been authorized by Mrs. Ryan to take possession of the house. She, Jen and Jack would be moving up next week. For five, entire, blissful days, Joey and Pacey would have the house to themselves.

When he opened the door to her insistent ring, her hello kiss nearly bowled him over before he recovered enough to push her back against the stairwell. 

Pacey laughed when she finally let him up for air. “I'm glad you didn't expect me to carry you across the threshold.” He greeted a bemused Bessie and Bodie. “So this is our new home. Not much downstairs yet, but I've got a few things set up in our room, Jo. We drew the attic, which is a longer walk and less finished, but more space and privacy. Why don't you and Bessie check the place out? I'll help Bodie with your stuff.”

Joey wandered through the living room, dining room and kitchen, thinking she would have no problem calling this place home for the next four years. Bessie loved the brick and the wood floors. The second floor featured the three bedrooms for their roommates.

“Only two bathrooms, though,” Bessie opined. “I foresee stressful mornings aplenty.”

“Since my hundred days on a boat, I've learned to be grateful for the small things, like hot running water. We'll manage.”

They took long enough looking things over that they trailed Bodie, Pacey and Joey's dresser up the stairs. Joey watched the muscles work in Pacey's arms and back while he maneuvered the heavy furniture and licked her lips. She suddenly couldn't wait for her family to leave.

Lust was superseded by love when she poked her head above the stairway railing and got her first view of the nest Pacey had built for her. A new queen-sized mattress on a second hand bedstead. A clunky, cheap set of drawers for Pacey's things, but a beautiful roll-top desk for Joey's schoolwork. And, best of all, an antique oak crib, with crisp, new, white bedding. Tears dripped unchecked down Joey's face. To give her this, Pacey had lived in a car for two months.

Pacey and Bodie placed her dresser to their satisfaction. Her boyfriend turned to her, expression falling at her swollen eyes. “You okay, Jo? We can change anything you don't like.”

“Don't you dare!” She grabbed the hem of his ugly, orange shirt, pulling him to her. “It's perfect. And you're not so bad yourself.”

Pacey's face lit like a kid on Christmas morning. “You like it? Really?”

“Yeah, but don't let it go to your head, Pace. If you really want to impress me, keep your dirty clothes off the floor.”

“Aww, come on, Potter. You can't expect miracles.”

~*~

Their week to themselves was nearly perfect, even with the hours Pacey worked. Maybe that was part of what made it perfect. All their time alone on _True Love_ had felt like a fantasy, a fairy tale. This felt real, and very adult.

Joey was anything but bored while he was away. She went walking to learn their neighborhood, memorized bus schedules, did the shopping and laundry. She unpacked, of course, and made their room feel even more like home. On Jen's relayed instructions from Mrs. Ryan, Joey took measurements of some of the other rooms, so they'd know which furniture to keep.

She spent a lot of time on the Worthington campus, finding her way around. The jitters she felt about her forthcoming collegiate life increased daily. 

And being six months pregnant, she took naps. A lot of naps.

One day, she paid Pacey a visit at Civilization. He showed her around, introduced her to his (jackass) boss and colleagues, had her taste the food. Joey marveled at how happy he was.

“Pacey, you really like this, don't you? Cooking, I mean.”

He ducked his head, somewhat sheepishly. “Yeah, I guess I do. It's fun, and I...I think maybe I'm good at it. Or could be, someday.”

“Why didn't you tell me before? All this time, I've been feeling horrible, thinking of your slaving away at these gross jobs to provide for us. Knowing you may have found your calling?” She kissed his forehead. “It's a weight off my shoulders.”

Another benefit of Pacey's Civilization gig? The leftovers he brought home were a huge step up from ramen noodles.

~*~

Part of Joey was sad to see the moving van pull up in front of their little loveshack. But she was also excited to see Jen and Jack again, and even Mrs. Ryan, who had made all this possible. And having furniture in more than one room wouldn't suck.

Joey was home to welcome them, but Pacey was at work. She was happy to help them unload, even if it was just light things, but Mrs. Ryan wouldn't hear of it. She kept fretting about the size of Joey's ankles and ordered her to put her feet up.

“Let her be, Grams,” Jen said, rolling her eyes.

Joey didn't mind. She remembered how horrible Mrs. Ryan was to Bessie during her pregnancy; fussing over her health, she would gladly accept. Sometimes Joey wondered if Jen realized how much she had changed her grandmother.

Jack was no more willing to let Grams unload than she had been to let Joey, so he and Tobey—and Pacey, after work—did most of the heavy lifting, under Jen and Mrs. Ryan's often contradictory directions.

Joey sat back with a glass of a orange juice and a pillow under her bare feet and watched the fun. Except for having to pee every five minutes—Baby had decided to make her bladder his first soccer ball—it was a great day.

Until the celebratory post-move pizza, when Mrs. Ryan reminded Joey exactly why she'd been a figure of terror to her for so many years.

“So, Josephine, may I ask what your plans are?”

“Um.” Joey struggled to talk around a mouthful of cheesy bread and think with a tired head full of cotton. “Plans for what? School? Mostly gen. ed. for the first semester.”

“That's all well and good, but I meant on a more personal note.” She gazed pointedly at Pacey on the couch at Joey's side.

Pacey must have felt the old witch's stare, because he turned away from talking sports with Jack. “Sorry, what?”

“I was asking Josephine about your plans, dear.”

“Plans for what?” Jen asked. She grabbed another slice of pizza and draped herself sideways over the recliner, ignoring her grandmother's disapproving look.

“These two children have decided that they are old enough to raise a child. According to you, they have spent a lot of time and effort in planning their future together, and I find myself wondering where, in all this, they have placed the subject of marriage.” Evelyn Ryan turned her hawk eyes back on Joey. “Despite your sister's example, marriage is still the safest and best place for the raising of children.”

“Unless you're gay,” threw in Tobey. “Then good luck with either.”

Jen raised her pizza towards him, in a sign of solidarity.

“Uh, we haven't...” Pacey stumbled, with a sideways look at Joey.

“Weddings are expensive,” Joey blurted out.

“Nonsense. Weddings are only as expensive as you let them be. You can get married at any courthouse for the cost of a license. You could be married in this very room for not much more.”

Joey threw Jen a _help! Please!_ look, but Jen was watching them with speculation in her eye. “Grams does have a point.”

“What!?” Jack exploded. Joey was glad she wasn't the only one astonished to find Jen on Mrs. Ryan's side.

“Oh, her reasons are crazy, no doubt. Sorry, Grams, but my parents would have done me and themselves a huge favor if they'd never tied the knot in the first place. But about Pacey and Joey, specifically. Maybe you guys should get married.”

“We...we're too young,” Joey spluttered.

Jen shrugged. “You're not too young to have a baby. Or live together. Legally, the State says you're old enough, and, financially, it might be good for your student aid package next year, Joey, since Bessie couldn't claim you as a dependent anymore.”

“Very logical, sure, but hardly the most romantic reason to get married.”

“Who said marriage and romance have anything to do with each other? From all I've seen, marriage is a mud-crawl through minefields. You either have each other's back, or you both get blown to pieces.”

“Jennifer!” Mrs. Ryan tsked.

“What? You know the most compelling reason I can think of why Pacey and Joey are ready for marriage? Nothing to do with the baby. Any prick with a prick can knock a girl up. No offense, Pacey.”

Pacey waved away the insult. Joey realized he hadn't said much of anything since the conversation began. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. Joey couldn't see his face.

“So what's the reason?” Jack asked.

“That they spent three months together on a ten foot deathtrap—” 

“Hey!” Pacey objected to Jen's description of his _True Love_.

“I almost died on that thing!” Jen countered. “Anyway, three months on a very small boat, and they didn't kill each other. Not only that, they somehow still loved each other, maybe even more than before. I figure, you manage a feat like that, you're probably ready for trench warfare.”

“You make a fair point, Jennifer, in spite of your crude metaphor and unfortunate view of holy matrimony. I hope your friends will take it to heart.” Mrs. Ryan rose from her seat, gathering paper plates and empty soda cans. “Now, it's been a long day. I thank you all for your hard work, but there's still much to do tomorrow. I suggest we all call it a night.”

~*~

“The nerve of that woman!” Joey was still fuming half an hour later. She had changed into her pajamas—a camisole and a pair of Pacey's boxers—and was rubbing lotion into her skin while Pacey sat on the bed behind her, brushing her hair. “To ambush us like that, and then walk away without even giving us a chance for a rebuttal.”

Pacey's even strokes took only the slightest pause before he resumed. “So what would you have said?”

“I...I...I'd have said that marriage is neither a foxhole, nor a recipe for a perfect family, nor a ploy for cheaper education. And more importantly, I'd have said it's none of their damn business anyway.”

Pacey didn't respond. He kept brushing her hair. Joey could feel her anger slowly receding with every downward sweep of the brush. She closed her eyes and let her body relax.

“Hey, Pace?”

“Yeah?”

“We've never talked about it—marriage. Just you and me, I mean.”

She heard him take a deep breath before he answered carefully, “No, we haven't.”

“Well, what do you think? You were awfully quiet downstairs, and I know you. When you're not saying anything, it means you have the most to say.”

The brushing stopped. Joey heard the thump of her brush on the nightstand. Her eyes fluttered open, but Pacey wrapped her in his arms from behind, his hands resting gently on the bulge of her belly.

“I think that if marriage was something you wanted, it would have shown up on one of your silly lists, and it wouldn't have taken Grams and Jen to make you talk about it.”

Joey frowned. Pacey was right, but she wanted to make him see why she didn't want it. “It's not about us, Pace. It's just...every marriage I've ever seen has been a disaster. My dad brazenly cheated on my dying mother. Even Mrs. Leery cheated on Dawson's dad. Look at Jen's parents, or yours, or Jack's. Whereas the one semi-functional adult relationship I've been exposed to is Bessie and Bodie, and they're not married.”

Pacey's chuckle wafted against her hair. “I think you believe in Jen's mudhole marriage theory more than you want to admit.”

“But I'm right. You know I am!”

“Have I argued with you about this at all? We've seen a lot of crap marriages, Jo. I could even add a few more to the list, like my sister Kerry's. But for the sake of complete honesty, let's put Mr. and Mrs. Ryan in the 'Pro' column.”

Joey remembered before Mr. Ryan got sick, seeing them out in the garden, Mrs. Ryan weeding, him reading, while Joey, Dawson and Pacey played in the Leery yard. Mr. Ryan would stop after every page, like clockwork, look up at his wife, and smile. Smile at the witch in a way seven-year-old Joey had found most perplexing. She remembered summer nights, leaving her rowboat at the dock, the light in Dawson's window beckoning her forward; she would pass the Ryans, more often than not, side by side on their bench, his arm around her shoulders, her head resting against him as they watched the creek roll by.

“They're the exception,” Joey admitted.

Pacey kissed her collarbone, the slope of her jaw, the tip of her ear. “We could be an exception,” he breathed.

Whirling around wasn't something Joey was capable of at this stage in her pregnancy, but she twisted her bulk in his arms until she could see Pacey's face. “Are you serious? You want to get married?”

Pacey sighed, pulled his mouth thin as he shrugged. “You don't want to, Jo, so I'm fine with that. But for myself, I would have no trouble promising to love, honor and cherish you in the presence of etcetera.”

She was flattered and moved and surprised. She'd had no idea the thought had even crossed his mind. “How long have you been feeling this way?”

“A while. I know why you feel the way you do, and I can love you just as well without a ceremony and a piece of paper. But I want you to know if the day ever comes when you change your mind, you wouldn't even need to ask.”

“I thought it was the guy's job to ask,” Joey teased, hoping he'd know that wasn't an invitation to propose. He was right. She didn't want to get married, even loving him this much. Maybe _because_ she loved him so much.

“Heck no. You're the one with the commitment issues, you're the one who gets to ask. And if you do, make it good, Potter. I'm wasting the best years of my life on you.”

“These are your best years?” Joey asked, feigning disbelief.

Pacey opened his mouth to retort, but she kissed him before he could. Mrs. Ryan wasn't the only one who knew how to silence a rebuttal.


	3. Chapter 3

**III.**

“...The girl sat in the dentist's chair, which was not a dentist's chair, and dreamed of sailing.”

“Thank you, Joey.” Professor Wilder smiled at her as she finished reading her first story for his Writing Workshop. “Any comments?”

A girl in the second row raised her hand and was called on. “The writing was all right, pedestrian but serviceable. But the message was appalling. To think of all the women who have fought and sacrificed to give us freedom over our own bodies, and still, the patriarchy rules us enough that little girls like you—no offense—want to perpetuate the myth that abortion is some life-destroying event.”

“But that's not—”

“Okay,” the professor interrupted. “This is not an ethics class. We're not getting into a political debate. But this is a literature class, and the best literature makes us think a little harder about the things we believe and why we believe them. It seems, Joey Potter, that you've stumbled onto something here.” He wrote a B+ across the front of her paper and handed it back as the bell rang.

Joey shuffled back to her seat to grab her stuff while the rest of the students filed out. She waited until the last one had left before she told the professor, “She was wrong. About my story. It's not anti-abortion. It's not even really about abortion. That's just the setting.”

Wilder looked up from his book and smirked at her. It was more charming than it should have been. “I know. It's about lying.”

Joey nodded, breathing a sigh of relief. “I didn't want you to think I was all the things she said.”

“Joey, I'm a professor of literature at one of the most prestigious universities in the country. Give me a little more credit than your average college freshman.”

“You're right. Thanks. Sorry.” She headed for the door.

“Joey?”

“Yeah?”

“Take it from someone who's been there. Wallowing in past mistakes might be a good way to write a story, but it's no way to live your life.”

Joey turned away.

~*~*~

**II.**

Beginning life at Worthington was a dream come true. Joey loved the campus, the classes, the teachers. She even loved her wild child roommate. So when Audrey suggested going to a party to distract herself from the fact that Pacey had missed his last scheduled phone call, Joey found herself—to her surprise—accepting.

But all of that disappeared when they walked outside, and she saw Pacey on the lawn. He hadn't seen her yet. He was looking from a scrap of paper in his hand to the imposing buildings around him. 

A passing student stopped and spoke to him. Pacey showed her the paper, and she pointed straight to where Joey had frozen in the doorway.

“Joey? Earth to Joey! What's wrong with you?”

Joey didn't answer Audrey. She barely heard her. Pacey had spotted her. With a whoop and grin, he was eating up the yards that separated them. Joey managed only three steps of her own before she was in his arms and in the air, twirling around, laughing and crying at once.

“Either you're the infamous, prodigal boyfriend, or I'm reporting you to campus security.”

Joey laughed some more, hiding her face in Pacey's neck, breathing him in. She made the introductions without letting go. “Pacey, this is my roommate, Audrey Liddell. Audrey, meet the one and only Pacey J. Witter.”

Pacey tucked Joey into his side in order to free a hand for Audrey to shake. “Of the Pacey J. Witter Memorial Wing of the Potter Bed & Breakfast in Capeside, Mass.”

Audrey pulled a face at Pacey's lame, obscure joke, but shook his hand cheerfully. “I've been dying to meet a guy so full of himself he'd keep an amazing girl like Joey here dangling for three whole months. Gotta say, in person, you kinda underwhelm.”

“Audrey!”

Pacey laughed. “Touche, Liddell.” He sketched a mocking bow. “I have been put roundly in my place. I conclude you're astute enough not to be taken in by my assurances that I was suffering as keenly as Miss Potter herself.”

Joey snickered and kissed Pacey's shoulder.

Audrey rolled her eyes. “What is it with you people and your big words? I guess I see why you like him, Joey, and I also guess I'm going to this party alone.”

Joey nodded. “Sorry, Audrey. Rain check.”

Audrey waved goodbye, and Pacey pulled Joey to him for another long hug. She had almost forgotten how good it felt to be in his arms.

“You know, if you want to go to this party, Jo, I can always—”

“Pacey! Think about the words coming out of your mouth.”

He grinned down at her. “Right. Forgot who I was talking to for a sec. So takeout in your dorm room and pretend other people don't exist?”

Joey slung his arm around her shoulders and led him inside. “You know me so well.”

Pacey nuzzled her neck as they walked. “God, I missed you, Jo.”

“Missed you, too, Pace.” She kissed the palm of his hand, then pulled him to her door. “Home, sweet home. It's small, but we got the corner room, which means the best view on the floor.”

Pacey surveyed her tidiness and Audrey's disaster zone. “So here it is, the inner sanctum of a college co-ed. The fifteen-year-old boy in me thinks this is a milestone moment in my life.”

“And the worldly eighteen-year-old man you are thinks?”

He sat down on Joey's bed and pulled her into his lap. “That these beds are pretty small, but will serve in a pinch.”

Joey could feel his hardness against her thigh. Pacey's mouth sought hers, but she tilted her head up at the last second and gave him only her chin. “You've been gone three months, Pace. You're not getting me into bed in three minutes.”

“It was a _long_ three months, Jo.”

“I'm sure it was.” Joey left him behind to pull takeout menus from her desk. She kept her face averted, so he wouldn't see her amused smile. “So what sounds good? Chinese, pizza, or there's a great Thai place right up the road. Cheap, too.”

“You pick. I'm not hungry. For food, anyway.”

Joey ignored his sulking and ordered a selection of Thai favorites.

“Jo, are we okay?” Pacey asked as soon as she hung up.

Joey turned around, surprised at his worried tone. “Of course. Why?”

“You haven't even kissed me hello.”

Joey walked back to the edge of the bed. She took Pacey's face in her hands, tilted it up to see his beautiful blue eyes. “Hello, Pacey.” Ever so slowly, she lowered her face to his, brushed their lips together lightly as butterfly's wings. “Welcome home.” She kissed him for real, relearning the contours of his mouth, taking his bottom lip between hers, teasing the tip of her tongue against his teeth.

Pacey bore the slow torture patiently, until her hands found his hair and pulled. Then Joey was on her back, and Pacey took his turn, tormenting her with a kiss that was a blatant mimicry of everything he intended to do to the rest of her body. Joey's hips rose of their own accord, her body on overdrive after three months without his touch.

But no matter how alive her body, Joey's brain never completely shut down. “Pacey,” she managed, when he abandoned her lips for locations further south. “Pace, we have to stop.” Words alone failed to move him, so she gave him a soft shove. “Delivery is on its way. I know you don't care, but I'd rather not meet it half-dressed and panting. Food first. Food and talk and then—maybe—sex.”

Pacey groaned but retreated to Audrey's bed. “Your priorities are so skewed, Potter.”

Joey took in his tousled hair, swollen lips and dilated eyes and thought their priorities weren't that far apart at all. She was just better at hiding it.

“I haven't even asked where your stuff is. Did you just get in? Do we need to go get it? Do you have a place to stay? I mean, you can stay here tonight, but I can't kick Audrey out of her room forever. There might be an extra room at Jen and Jack's place.”

“Relax, Jo. I got it covered. My stuff's still at the boat. The dean is done with it for the season, so he offered me the use of it in return for keeping an eye on it and some light maintenance work.”

“He offered it to you, just like that?”

Pacey shrugged. “He likes me. I'm a likable guy.” When Joey continued to eye him warily, he added, “Or it was in payment for servicing his hot daughter all around the Caribbean. That's what you're thinking, right?”

Joey knew she'd hurt him, but she couldn't deny the thought had occurred to her. “You talked about her an awful lot, Pace.”

“It was a family yacht, Jo. There weren't an awful lot of people to talk about. She was the only one near my age, so we played cards, got drunk, and bored each other stupid with tales of our significant others back home. I didn't touch her, and you should know me well enough to know that.”

“I do, Pacey. I _do_ know that, and I'm sorry. It's just...it was a long three months for me, too. I was jealous of the fact that she got to see you everyday, and then I scared myself into the idea that I had other reasons to be jealous.”

“I was jealous, too, you know. Of Dawson and Jack and every other guy who got to see you when I couldn't.”

“Jack's gay.” She deemed it best to ignore the Dawson implications.

“You almost turned him straight once before,” Pacey teased.

Their food arrived. Pacey paid for it, over Joey's objections. She added a scrunchie to the doorknob while Pacey carried the food to Joey's desk. They ate straight from the cartons, sharing chopsticks and making each other try all the dishes. Pacey might have denied being hungry, but he ate the lion's share of the meal.

They talked for a while about Worthington and Joey's classes, but she eventually asked him the question burning a hole in her mind. “So you've got a place to stay. Any idea what you want to do?”

“Doug wants me to meet with this restaurant guy,” Pacey said in a flat tone.

“And you don't want to?”

He shrugged, a choppy gesture under his shirt. “I don't really have any choice, do I? At sea, I might know what I'm doing. But on land, I'm just another talentless loser, who has to be grateful for any job I can get.”

Joey put down her nearly empty tray of _som tum_. “You are _not_ a loser, Pacey.” She lowered herself into his lap. “And as for talentless, there are some who would say that making me happy is a rare talent in and of itself. Better men than you tried and failed. But you're also smart and funny and kind and noble. And I don't know if you realize this, but very few teenagers build their own boats.”

“So you're saying I shouldn't take the job?”

“Take the job, don't take the job, I don't care. I'm saying don't let your job define you. What you do for a living isn't who you are. Just because I happened to work as a waitress for a while doesn't mean that's what I am.”

“Good thing, too, Jo, because you were a pretty terrible waitress.”

“Aww, and here was I under the impression you wanted sex tonight.”

Pacey's eyebrows raised at her challenge. “Want and will have.” He stood, lifting Joey to her feet and leaving his hands on her hips.

“Not likely if that's your best line.” Joey stepped back, well aware she was retreating towards her bed. Pacey followed, inches away.

“Yeah, well, you're not my only option.”

“But your left hand gets so tired.” Her knees hit the foot of her bed.

“Vulgar wench.” Pacey's head bent, tilted, lips hovered millimeters from her own.

“Hypersexualized horndog.” Joey grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to the mattress with her.

Pacey laughed against her mouth. “Your roommate's right. We use too many big words.”

“So shut me up.”

He did.  
*~*~*

**III.**

Audrey, Joey's new roommate, had convinced her to go to this party, and someone had handed her this drink and then another, and now the ground was tilting in a way that reminded her of sailing with a strong tailwind. Joey reached for her phone, so she could tell Pacey about it, but then realized she didn't know Pacey's number anymore. Pacey might not even have a number anymore.

So she called Dawson instead. She got his machine.

“Hey, Dawson. What's up? It's Joey. I'm at this party, and I was just thinking about...something. God, what was it? Sailing! Yeah, sailing. You were never very good at it, were you?” She burst out laughing. “Remember that time you tried to beat Pacey by cheating? What an asshat thing to do. The thing is, Dawson, the thing about sailing is that the winds have to be right. No wind, and you could stay there for hours, while your boyfriend paints your toenails and spills the polish over your feet, and you chase him right into, right into...” 

Joey was crying. When did she start doing that? “I miss you, Pace,” she whispered into the phone and hung up.

~*~*~

**II.**

The knock sounded entirely too early. Or maybe it felt like that because Joey had not fallen asleep until the early hours of the morning. She tried to stretch in the cramped confines of the bed, reveling in the solid warmth of Pacey at her back.

“Just a minute,” she called to the door, while she shook Pacey awake. “Come on, sweetheart. Time to get dressed. Audrey's back. Fond as she might be of over-sharing, I'd like to keep you to myself.”

“I'm up, I'm up,” Pacey grumbled.

While he searched for his boxers, Joey wrapped her blue bathrobe around herself and headed for the door. She looked back to confirm that Pacey had pants on before throwing open the door. 

“Surprise!”

“Dawson!”

Dawson's smile collapsed as he glanced behind her and saw Pacey. Joey stood frozen in the doorway, too stunned by Dawson's unexpected presence to know what to do or say.

“Dawson, man, what are you doing here? I thought you were California-bound.” Pacey, still shirtless, clasped Dawson's hand with his right, while his left came to rest possessively on Joey's shoulder.

“Pacey. Hi. I didn't know you were back.”

“Just got in yesterday. You still haven't said why you're here, dude.”

A door opened down the hall and out walked Audrey with the shy boy from Joey's writing workshop. Audrey noticed the tableau and bounced over to see what was happening.

“Be still my hungover heart! Until yesterday, I'd never seen Josephine Potter with a single hottie, and now she's got two.” She turned a blistering smile on Dawson and held out her hand. “Audrey Liddell. Single. Ignore him.” She waved vaguely back at the boy whose room she'd slept in last night.

Bemused, Dawson shook her hand. “Dawson Leery. Nice to meet you.”

“Ooh, I've heard of you. Best friend, turned love interest, turned best friend again. This must be super awkward for you, right?”

“Well, talking about it in a public hallway with a near stranger isn't helping.”

“Sorry.” Joey jumped back from the doorway. “Come in, please.”

Dawson's eyes darted from Joey to Pacey, then back again. “That's all right. I should have called first. I'll go drop my stuff at Jen's. Maybe we can get together later for lunch, Joey?”

“I have a better idea,” Audrey said, linking her arm through Dawson's. “I'll go with you, give you a tour of campus, and we can _all_ get together for lunch.”

“Great idea, Audrey,” Pacey said before Dawson could respond. “See you later, D-man.” He swung the door shut.

Joey scowled and crossed her arms. “You might have at least let Dawson speak for himself. What if he doesn't want to spend the day with Audrey?”

“Given that he flew clear across the country to spend the day with you, it's a pretty safe bet he doesn't.” Pacey walked past her without a glance. “Have you seen my shirt?”

Joey grabbed it from the windowsill and tossed it to him. “We don't know that's why he came.”

“Joey.” He gave her a pointed look.

“Okay, fine. But I didn't even know he was coming, Pacey!”

“I know you didn't, Jo.”

“Then why are you acting like this?”

“Like what?” said Pacey, deliberately obtuse.

“All possessive and jealous and weird.”

“I'll cop to the first two, but the weirdness? That's the vibe between you and Dawson.”

Joey started pulling open drawers, grabbing clean clothes at random.

“Jo? Jo, did something happen between you two while I was gone?”

“He kissed me, all right? But I stopped it, Pace. I told him I was still with you.”

“Unbelievable!” Pacey threw his arms in the air, then covered his face and shook his head.

“What? I didn't do anything wrong.”

“Not you, _him_! The man goes around for a solid year, playing the victim, treating me like Judas Iscariot for daring to fall in love with a girl he dated for two minutes once upon a time; then the minute my back is turned, he makes a move on my girlfriend.”

Joey could see Pacey's point, but was mostly sick of the whole damn thing. She gathered her clothes and bathbag. “I'm running out of ways to tell you that you've already won this fight, Pace. You're the one who woke up in my bed this morning, you're the only one who has ever been in my bed, and Dawson knows it. If you still need to have this pissing contest, do me a favor, and leave me out of it. I'm going to take a shower.”

~*~*~

When she returned, Pace was gone, but had left her a note. In it, he apologized, said he had some errands to run and listed the time and place they were supposed to meet Audrey and Dawson for lunch.

Joey sighed. She shouldn't have stomped off. Now she'd lost the chance to spend the morning with Pacey. She pushed the regret aside and spent the hours until lunch researching a paper for her philosophy class. 

Joey arrived at the little cafe at exactly noon. Dawson and Audrey were already there. Pacey was not. 

Audrey waved her over. “So I've nearly convinced Spielberg here that I am his muse, and he should have me star in all his future productions. What do you think?”

“I think anything that keeps _me_ from having to act again is a great plan.” Joey studied her two friends. Audrey was even bubblier than usual; she might have the start of a crush on Dawson. On the other hand, Dawson, while amused by Audrey and more relaxed than this morning, was clearly dying to spend some time with Joey.

Joey felt guilty. Dawson had traveled all this way. And yet she didn't want to upset Pacey or give Dawson false hope. Stupid men. “You never did say, Dawson, why you flew out here so suddenly.”

Dawson looked from Joey to Audrey, before resigning himself to the presence of a third party. “A few reasons. I got fired from my internship.”

“How do you get fired from an internship? They don't even pay you.”

“Long story that basically boils down to the director was an asshole.”

“Ah,” said Joey, the pieces falling together, “so in addition to doubting whether you're good enough to make it, you're also doubting your belief in the whole magic of Hollywood.”

“You got all that from what he said?”

“Of course she did. She's my soulmate.”

“Now there's a term I haven't heard in a while.”

Joey jumped out of her seat at the sound of Pacey's voice. She greeted him with a short, but fervent kiss, a silent protest against the soulmate contention.

“Hey, Pacey, where have you been?” Dawson didn't sound as though he cared; he sounded annoyed that he'd shown up at all.

“Getting a job, actually.”

Joey grinned as they sat down. “Really? That restaurant one your brother set up?”

“Something better, I hope. I was walking by the marina when I saw a Help Wanted sign in a window. I looked up, and the business is Taylor & Sons, Shipwrights. They do custom builds, restorations and repairs for sailboats. I figured it was too good to be true, but I went inside anyway, just to ask. Turns out the latest generation of Taylors would rather study molecular biology than learn the family business. I chatted a bit with the old man. When I told him about _True Love_ , he hired me on the spot.”

Joey squealed and threw her arms around him. “That's amazing, Pace. It really does sound like the perfect job for you.”

“I'm just glad it will keep you in Boston,” Audrey said. “So Joey will stop being such a mopey-face.”

“Congratulations, Pacey.” Dawson's voice was tight. He had lost a job, and Pacey had found one. One more thing Dawson would resent.

Joey loved Dawson, but at that moment, she heartily wished him back in California.

“Thanks, man.” Nothing in Pacey's tone gave away his anger from the morning. “Shall we eat?”

While they looked at menus, Joey squeezed Pacey's knee underneath the table, a gesture of appreciation for being the bigger man. Pacey caught her hand and held it, apologizing for earlier without a word.

Lunch was surprisingly pleasant. Pacey had stories to tell from his summer away. Dawson told them about the director from hell. And Audrey never had a qualm filling a silence. Joey didn't say much herself, but she began to relax and enjoy the day.

As the meal was winding down, Dawson ended the detente by asking, “Joey, is there any chance I could have some time with you this afternoon? I'm leaving tomorrow, and there are things I need to say.”

Pacey tensed at Joey's side. She braced herself for the explosion, but it never came.

Joey tried to negotiate a compromise. “Sure, Dawson. Maybe you, Pacey and I can take a walk by the wharf.”

“That's okay, Jo. I don't think Dawson was aiming for another awkward balancing act. I'll go check in with Lindley and Jackers.” Pacey took the pen from the restaurant bill and scribbled something on a napkin, which he passed to her. “That's my boat. Meet me there later?”

“Pacey, you don't have to—” 

He cut her off with a swift kiss. “I trust you, Jo. Maybe not him, but I trust you.”

“Pacey, don't get the wrong idea,” Dawson said. “I only—” 

Pacey stood, all six foot two of him, and glared down at his old friend. “Save it, Dawson. Joey told me about this summer. After spending way too long this morning thinking about it, it's only made me regret that I ever wasted my time feeling guilty for hurting such a self-centered, hypocritical jackass.” He turned to leave, rubbing his hand along Joey's hair as he went. “See you later, Jo.”

Dawson sat stunned, but Audrey burst into delighted laughter. “You guys are almost as good as _Melrose_. Quick, Joey, throw your drink at me!”

~*~*~

Dawson and Joey left the cafe together. They rambled, silently and aimlessly, through the streets before ducking into a nearby park.

“So you had something you needed to tell me?” Joey finally prompted.

“Well, I did, but after Pacey's little speech—and you not refuting it—everything I had to say seems self-centered, hypocritical and moot.”

Joey groaned. “I wish the two of you would accept that there's room for both of you in my life. Pacey is my boyfriend, you're my best friend, and I don't plan on either of those things changing anytime soon.”

“Life is change, Joey. Surely our adolescence taught us that, if nothing else.”

“You're right, Dawson. It is. Which is all the more reason to hold on tight to the people we love and not allow ourselves to lose them in the chaos.”

Dawson laughed bitterly. “Two days ago, I reached the same conclusion myself and hopped on a plane to tell you so.”

“Dawson—” 

“No, Joey, I've started now. I might as well play the scene to the end. I love you, Joey. As best friend, soulmate, muse, and love my life. All the time I was sitting on the plane, I convinced myself if I laid it out for you that naked and openly, I had a chance.” Dawson grimaced. “And then I saw Pacey in your room this morning, and I knew I'd been the starry-eyed dreamer yet again. But I'm not sorry I kissed you this summer, and I'm not sorry I told you I love you just now.”

“And I'm not sorry I fell in love with Pacey. So where does that leave us?”

“Same place as always, the cipher key to each other's life.”

Joey gave him a sad half-smile, her Dawson smile, and nodded in agreement. “Then, as your personal decoder ring, may I offer you one piece of advice?”

“Please.”

“Go back to school, Dawson. Work for another director, and maybe another and another, until you find one you can respect. You can't let one failure rob you of your dreams. They're the best part of you.”

“No, you are. But they're a close second.” They walked on together, the silence between them now companionable instead of loaded.

Until Dawson stopped and poured out in a rush, “I gotta say this, Joey, even if you hate me for it. You think because Pacey's back that everything is going to work out for you two. But the guy spent three months sailing away from you, he lives on a boat, and he's going to work at a place that builds them. It doesn't take an advanced degree to see the symbolism here. He's gonna run again, and when he does, I don't want you to get hurt.”

“Symbols are for lit. classes and French films, not for life. Pacey just likes boats. No deeper meaning attached,” Joey said and tried to make herself believe.

“I hope you're right. Really, I do. But if I am, and that day comes, you know you can always—” 

“Count on you? I know, Dawson. I know.”

*~*~*

**III.**

Dawson came to visit, and Joey was happy to see him, because he was her best friend and how could she not be? He wanted to talk about them, about the idea of them being an “us” again. Joey wasn't averse to the notion, but she was too busy with school to think about it. 

He listened to his phone messages while she did homework at her desk. “Why didn't you just say so, Joey?”

“Say what?” Joey had two papers and a set of trig problems to focus on. She didn't even know what Dawson was talking about.

“That you're still in love with Pacey.”

Joey huffed her disbelief. “That is patently ridiculous, Dawson.”

Dawson pressed some buttons on his phone and handed it to her. Joey listened to her own message. Her mouth pulled tight, her eyes closed. Joey willed herself not to cry, not to think.

“I was drunk,” she said and gave Dawson back his phone.

Joey went back to studying, and Dawson went back to California.

~*~*~

**II.**

Trepidation gripped Joey as she walked along the wharf to Pacey's boat. Dawson's words echoed in her head. Despite all the counterarguments Joey had formulated, they had the ring of truth.

True or not, Pacey had been back for less than thirty-six hours, and she was already afraid of losing him again. She half-convinced herself the yacht wouldn't be there.

But she turned onto the correct dock, and she could see Pacey on deck from several berths away. His back was to her; he had showered and changed since lunch. He had set up a small, portable grill, and the smell of roasting meat contrasted with the briny scent of the harbor.

Joey wrapped her blue sweater tighter around her and willed away her fear. She looked up at the sky, disappointed by the smoky, blackish haze. “Can't see them very well from here, can you?”

Pacey turned, a welcoming smile on his face. He followed her gaze to the sky. “What, the stars? No, you can't see them very well, can you? But what the hell. I've seen them all before anyway, right?”

Joey grinned. “Me, too.”

Pacey held out his hand to help her aboard. The second his fingers closed around hers, Joey knew Dawson was wrong. His analysis didn't factor in this reality: Pacey loved her.

“Help yourself.” He nodded towards the small spread of chips, macaroni salad, and hot dog fixings, then went back to his grill. “So how was the date with the other boyfriend?”

Joey threw a Dorito at him. “You're not remotely funny.”

“Actually, that's one of the few things most people agree I have going for me.” Pacey scooped the frankfurters onto a plate and turned off the grill. “Along with my rugged good looks and natural charm.”

“Don't forget your massive ego and absurd delusions.”

Pacey watched her as she prepared a plate. “How was it really, Jo?”

“Awkward. Painful. Nothing resolved, and yet somehow still friends.”

“So the usual.”

“Pretty much.” Joey sighed. “Does it make me a bad friend if I'm happy he's leaving tomorrow?”

Pacey leaned over the table to kiss her nose. “No. It makes you a good girlfriend, though.”

They took their dinner to the curved bench at the bow and settled in close together.

“I gotta say, Pace,” Joey said, taking in her plush surroundings, “this is quite a step up in the world from the _True Love_.”

“I don't know. I kinda liked the tight quarters.” He slipped his arm around her and patted the side of her butt cheek. “Gave me an excuse to touch you.”

Joey rolled her eyes. “Like you ever needed one.”

Pacey chuckled. “Got me there, Potter. Another plus I'll give the more elite mode of travel: actual beds instead of hammocks.”

“Really? I think I slept better in that hammock than I ever have in my life, like a baby in a cradle.”

“Oh, they're great for sleeping, but a bit more complicated for other activities.” Pacey kissed Joey's shoulder where her sweater had slipped down.

Joey smiled, remembering one breathless night when her virginity had been preserved not so much by moral conviction as mechanical malfunction. The hard fall had left them both bruised for days. “Your 'other activities' can wait a bit. I want to hear more about this new job of yours.”

“Not much more to tell. The family have been shipbuilders for almost two hundred years. It's run by the old man and his son, but the grandson got accepted to M.I.T.—Jo, I wish you could have heard the guy's tone when he said that, actually _disappointed_ about M.I.T.” Pacey shook his head in disbelief. “So they're going to teach me the trade. I start Monday.”

“I'm so happy for you, Pace.” For a moment, Joey considered mentioning Dawson's ridiculous theory, but she dismissed it. No reason to let Dawson ruin their night with his Hollywood-driven imagination.

~*~

**I.**

School started, and it was terrifying and exhilarating. Joey loved her writing workshop, despite a rocky start with the professor.

Dawson came home for a visit. His first job had ended badly, and he was ready to turn tail and quit. Between them, Joey, Pacey and Jen got him sorted out and on a plane back to California. It was where he belonged. Not in Capeside, squandering his talent, and not in Boston, staring at Joey's ever-increasing belly with sad eyes.

Dawson wasn't the only one who couldn't tear his eyes off Joey's pregnancy. Every kid on campus seemed to find her worth a second or even a third judgmental look. Joey thought her life in Capeside had made her gossip-proof, but knowing her new peers all thought she was less than they were—stupid enough to get pregnant, too stupid to get an abortion—left her in tears more than once.

She tried to blame the hormones.

And her hormones were definitely on overdrive. Joey cried when she and Pacey shopped for baby things, when Bessie sent Alexander's baby clothes—they were officially having a boy—and when she got a B on a paper.

Pacey tried to be patient with her, but he had his own bad-tempered days. Working seventy to eighty hour weeks was taking its toll. 

The days when his exhaustion met Joey's hormones were the worst; screaming rows about idiotic things—like leaving the cap on the toothpaste—led to her crying or him storming off or both of them trying to enlist Jen and Jack to their side. Jen told them to work it out; Jack told them they were crazy, and he should know.

Eventually, they always came back together, apologetic and ready to start over. Until the next bad day.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Living with Mrs. Ryan had been the part of the arrangement Joey most dreaded, but it turned out to be the best blessing she could ever have dreamed. Evelyn Ryan might be firm in her opinions and open about expressing them. But she was also unstintingly generous and fiercely protective of those she loved. And, according to Jack, to live under Grams' roof was to become part of her family.

Just having a former nurse in the house saved Joey many a frantic phone call to her doctor or unnecessary trip to the E.R. Mrs. Ryan kept a clear head and talked Joey through all the little incidents of her pregnancy. She made sure Joey was getting the proper nutrition, exercise, and bedrest, all of which Joey would have neglected in the freshman stress of Worthington.

One of the reasons Joey lucked into so much of Mrs. Ryan's personal attention was that she was home more than Grams' more favored children. Jen had a new boyfriend and a radio gig. Jack joined a fraternity. Joey was in class, in the library, or home. Her advanced pregnancy didn't lend itself to socialization with her peers.

Jen happened to be home one night in October, painting Joey's toenails—which Joey could no longer see or reach—when she got a phone call. It could have been her boyfriend, but the way her eyes flickered to Joey's face before she took it to another room made Joey sure it wasn't.

Joey pretended to read a magazine until Jen returned. “So how is he?” she asked without putting down the gossip rag.

“No.” Jen sat down and calmly went back to Joey's toes. “You don't get to keep your pregnancy from him, make all of us swear to do the same, and then ask for updates on his life. At least don't do it with me.”

“Fair enough. I'm sorry, Jen.”Joey put down the magazine and leaned her head back on the couch pillows. She was tired all the time now.

“Of course, hypothetically speaking, if I maybe knew that a certain someone had arrived in Boston, and I also knew that someone else had certain critical information to impart to the first person, then maybe I would be justified in breaking my promise to that person to keep their hypothetical whereabouts a secret.”

“Hypothetically,” Joey snidely returned. Inside, her emotions were roiling. Pacey was in Boston, but apparently wanted to see her so little that he'd made Jen promise not to tell her. The exact opposite of the conditions under which she'd ever want to see Pacey again.

“You should see him, Joey. You should tell him.”

“If I saw him, I wouldn't have to tell him.” Joey laid hands on her protruding belly. “But as he doesn't want to see me, I have no need to see him.”

With a cry of disgust, Jen pushed Joey's feet off her lap. “You two are among the most ridiculously self-destructive people I have ever met.” She grabbed one of Joey's school binders and marked it with the nail polish. “And I know from self-destructive.” She shoved the notebook back at Joey. “There. Ignore that, if you can.”

Pacey's address and phone number stared at her in shining, ruby red print.

*~*~*

**III.**

Pacey was back.

He was back and, of all things, working in a restaurant. In all her imaginings, that was never how Joey first saw him again. Her only comfort was that he didn't see her at all.

All those mornings running by the harbor, pretending she wasn't looking for him, and then she almost smacked into him walking to the restroom.

She stood frozen, absorbing the blow-back as her heart was flung forcibly into her chest. Then she remembered how it felt to hurt and walked away.

*~*~*

She couldn't let it lie. Pacey was back, and he hadn't said a word to her. Why? And was it just her, or was he hiding from everyone?

Dawson didn't know. If Dawson knew, he would have told her. Doug might know, but if he'd been sworn to secrecy, it was no good trying to get it out of him. Gretchen would know, if anyone did, but Joey was certain Gretchen would think she was doing her brother a favor by keeping Joey out of his life.

That left Jen. Joey wasn't certain Pacey would contact Jen, but she was the safest, the most neutral of their little gang. She was also incredibly bad at secret-keeping.

After finally being freed from Audrey's awful mother—Mrs. Liddell was just a rich version of Mrs. Witter, as far as Joey could tell—and promising Audrey she'd listen to her rant later, Joey grabbed a bus to Jen's neighborhood. She was perhaps a bit insistent with the doorbell when she got there.

“Josephine Potter!” Mrs. Ryan opened the door in her bathrobe. She looked scandalized. “What are you doing here at this time of night?”

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Ryan.” Joey slipped under the old woman's arm and into the house. “I need to see Jen. Is she here?”

“She's in her room, studying.” Mrs. Ryan shut and bolted the door. “As you should be.”

Joey wasn't listening. She was already flying up the stairs to Jen's room. Jen's door was shut, but her light was on. Joey knocked but went in anyway when Jen didn't answer. Jen was at her desk, back to the door, typing away at her computer. The large headphones covering her ears explained her lack of response. 

“Jen!” Joey tapped her shoulder.

Jen twisted her swivel chair so fast she fell out of it. “Ow. Jeez, Joey, you scared the life out of me.” She settled her headphones around her neck. Joey heard a few beats of blaring femme rock before Jen turned off the music. “So what's up?”

“Pacey.”

Any doubts she had about Jen's knowledge disappeared at the guilty look on her face. “P-pacey? What about him?”

“You're a rotten liar, Jen. I know you know he's back.”

“I wanted to tell you, Joey. I swear. I even invited him to Sunday dinner. He made me promise not to tell anyone.”

Joey sank onto Jen's bed, her manic energy deserting her as quickly as it had arrived. “Especially me?”

Jen nodded as she sat beside her. “He asked about you. Nearly the first words out of his mouth. He wanted to know if you were happy. I told him he should ask you.”

“But he hasn't.” Joey tried to think of all the reasons Pacey would avoid her. Maybe he hated her. But he hadn't acted like he hated her the last few times she'd seen him. He didn't even know the reasons he _should_ hate her.

Maybe he was still in love with her. But if so, why wouldn't he tell her that? Joey had given him all the opening he needed with her last words to him. And it wasn't like Pacey “Ask Me To Stay” Witter to be shy about the way he felt.

Maybe he was just sick of her drama, and his life was better without her.

“How'd you find out anyway?”

“He was working at the restaurant I ate at tonight. I saw him, but he didn't see me.”

“Maybe you should fix that.” Jen tore off part of an envelope and wrote something on it. “He's staying on that yacht he sailed around in this summer, boat-sitting or squatting or something.” She handed the scrap of paper to Joey. “That's where it's docked. Pay him a visit, and put us all out of your misery.”

*~*~*

Joey did not go to the docks that night. She went back to her dorm and tried to give Audrey a sympathetic ear while she complained about her mother. Audrey picked up on her distraction and pressed her on it.

Telling Audrey the history of herself and Dawson had been easy. Joey's roommate was both a gossip junkie and a romantic, and she was determined to win Joey's confidence. The Dawson saga was the perfect story for her. And it all felt so removed from Joey's present life that she didn't care.

Dawson and Joey made a good script; they just didn't make a good couple. Audrey the actress couldn't see beyond the page, though, and had decided to join Dawson in the star-crossed lovers camp.

On the other hand, talking about Pacey was impossible. There was too much dichotomy between what Joey wanted to feel and what she actually felt. There was too much pain, and too many secrets wrapped in silence. 

Not to mention, the story on paper didn't read clean: _I fell in love with my ex-boyfriend's best friend, who also happened to be my good friend's ex-boyfriend. We hurt them both, then ran away for the summer, while they were left behind to pick up the pieces. When we came back, we were okay for awhile, until I developed a penchant for lying, and his insecurities ate him alive. We had the most painful, public breakup ever, and then he ran away again._

Joey could say all that. Every word was true, but it wasn't the truth of them. They were defined by their details, as she had said they would be. By the way her toes curled when he kissed her, and the way her body fit against his like it belonged. By the sweetness and the sarcasm; by days spent sanding down the wreck of a boat and nights spent counting stars.

She couldn't tell Audrey that. So she told her she ran into an ex-boyfriend, then went to bed without answering any questions.

*~*~*

The next night, Joey did go to see him. She didn't mean to. She went for a walk, and her feet took her of their own accord.

Their encounter was...strange. She caught her breath at the first words from his deep voice. Her pulse raced when he took her hand to help her into the boat. But she couldn't read him. They talked, they bantered, even brought up the past, albeit obscurely, but she couldn't tell how he felt about anything.

At moments, Joey felt she was looking at a stranger wearing Pacey's face. Then, suddenly, she'd catch his eyes on her, and she'd think, _he still looks at me the same way_. But except the hand up, he didn't touch her, reminding her more of the Pacey from their last unpleasant weeks as a couple than from any other time in their lives. Yet he wasn't surly, as he'd been then. He was pleasant and kind and utterly charming. She didn't know what to make of him.

If deciphering Pacey was confusing, figuring out her own feelings was a Rubik's cube. Excited to see him again, to hear his voice, and talk the way they used to. Saddened by the distance between them, by this chasm she didn't know how to leap. Terrified of everything—of being hurt, abandoned again; of hurting him; of him finding out her secret; of keeping the secret inside to fester and poison her further. Wanting to run and wanting to stay. Alive for the first time in months, and not convinced that was a good thing.

It wasn't until she was walking home that Joey realized why she felt so dissatisfied with the visit. She had been waiting for him to ask her to go sailing. He never did.

*~*~*

Mitch Leery was dead. The man who had been more of a father to Joey than her own was gone in an instant. She didn't know how to process this grief.

She wanted to be there for Dawson, the way he had been there for her after her mom, and yet where could she go with her own loss?

Joey was on her way to see Pacey before she finished the thought. But on her way, the decision solidified as the right one. Mitch had been a surrogate father to Pacey as well; he deserved to know. They would all need each other to get through this.

Pacey was as stunned by the news as she had been. But he resisted the idea that Dawson would need him. Joey's tongue wouldn't let her tell him that _she_ needed him. She convinced him to attend the funeral. But he didn't so much as squeeze her hand.

Maybe it was partly her fault. She didn't reach for him, either.

*~*~*

After what felt like the longest day of her life, after the funeral and the wake, after fighting with Dawson and holding a sobbing Gail, Joey fled onto the veranda of her sister's B&B to get a moment to herself, to remember Mitch in a quieter way, to think up ways to help Dawson cope.

A shadow blocked the doorway. “Mind if I join you?”

Joey cursed the way her heart leapt. Of all the days to be so selfish. “Not at all.” She started to pull her feet back, to make room for him on the loveseat beside her, but Pacey lowered himself into a chair without noticing.

“What a day, huh?” Pacey sighed and rested his head on the back of the chair.

“An awful day.” Joey lapsed into silence, staring into the black night.

“Barnacle for your thoughts?” Pacey asked softly.

Joey smiled at the old game. “You don't have a barnacle.”

“Spot me. I'm good for it.”

“I was worrying about Dawson. Apparently, he had this big fight on the phone with his dad before the accident, and now he blames himself. He feels like if they hadn't fought, maybe his dad would have paid more attention to the road or something. I don't know. I think he really feels bad that the last words he'll ever say to Mitch were unkind.”

“Mitch loved Dawson, and he knew Dawson loved him. Not all fathers and sons have that.”

“Try telling Dawson that. He won't hear it from me.”

“What was the fight about anyway?”

“Oh, Dawson has the idea in his head that he should drop out of USC and come home. He tried to make me ask him to stay a few weeks ago when he came to visit, but I wouldn't. I guess he wanted his dad to support him. Instead, they fought.”

Pacey was silent for a moment. “I would have thought you'd want Dawson to come home.”

“Of course, I'd be happy to have Dawson back. I just can't be the _reason_ for it. The ironic thing is now Dawson has to take a bereavement leave so he can help take care of his mom and Lily. He has his reason, which makes him feel guiltier.”

“Poor Dawson.” Pacey leaned forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped, vision focused on them. “I sort of thought, after I left, that you and he would make another go of it.”

Rage filled Joey, swift and hot. “Because I'm that changeable, right, Pace? Out of sight, out of mind, and I would just move on like the last two years of my life never happened.”

Startled, Pacey's eyes jumped to hers at the start of her rant and stayed riveted there throughout. “I'm sorry, Jo. I didn't mean it like that.”

“How did you mean it?”

“You and Dawson...you had destiny written all over you. I guess I always felt like I was a cosmic accident, a cataclysm that knocked you off your rightful path. So without me to mess it up, maybe you'd find your way back.”

Tears burned in Joey's eyes. This, then, was the explanation behind the new Pacey. He'd rewritten their history according to Dawson's script.

“Pacey, for Dawson, I crossed a creek. With you, I sailed oceans. Which sounds like the more important relationship?”

He drew in a sharp breath. “Joey, I—”

“There you are. I could use some help in the kitchen, Joey.” Bessie poked her head around the doorframe, only then spotting Pacey. She froze. “Sorry, am I interrupting?”

Joey jumped to her feet. “Nope. We're good. Bye, Pacey.” She hurried after Bessie, afraid of how much she'd revealed and of what Pacey's response would have been.

~*~

**I.**

Joey was sitting on their bed reading an assigned text when Pacey got home from a shift at Civilization.

“Danny is a dick,” he announced before flopping backwards on the bed, feet still touching the floor.

Joey was intrigued enough to shut her book. The one time she had met Pacey's boss, she thought he was a smug asshole. But up to this point, to hear Pacey tell it, the man was a god. “Your boss Danny? I thought he walked on water.”

“He'd sink to the bottom like every other slimy scum-sucker.”

Looking at Pacey's face, Joey could see this wasn't just a fatigue-fueled bad mood. She reached out and ruffled his hair. “What happened, sweetheart?”

“He's cheating on his pregnant wife with one of the staff.” He ripped away from her touch and paced the room, gesticulating angrily with every word. “This was a guy I respected, you know? I thought, he was a screw-up like me, but he showed them. He made something of himself. I started to think if he can do it, so can I. But he's still a screw-up. And a dick. Did I mention he's a dick?”

“Once or twice.” Joey made herself waddle over to stop Pacey's frantic behavior. It took effort, like all decisions to move lately. She took his hands in hers, stilling them. “Pacey, you are _not_ your boss. Even if you are a screw-up—and I've seen precious little evidence of that lately—you have never been and never will be a cheater. I speak not just as your girlfriend and mother of your future child, but as a lifelong friend who watched you grow up; there is nothing selfish or callous about you, and Danny is both.”

“Should I quit, Jo?”

Joey nearly laughed. Dear Pacey and his noble causes. “The man can still cook, right?”

Reluctantly, Pacey nodded.

“So let him teach you how to cook, and accept the fact that he can be both a good chef and a bad man.”

Gripping her hands, Pacey leaned forward and kissed her. “What would I ever do without you, Potter?”

She pretended to consider that. “Not sure, but it would likely involve prison at some point.”

“You joke, but...”

~*~

Joey's baby shower featured all the same women as Gail's, with three additions. 

“I had to tell her,” Gretchen said apologetically when she arrived with her mother in tow.

“Josie!” Mrs. Witter's brusque voice rang through the house. “You're big as a horse. Let me look at you!” She placed heavy hands on Joey's shoulders and surveyed her with a critical eye. “Those aren't good birthing hips. Witter men are large even from birth. Why, with Pacey, I was in labor for—”

“Come on, Ma. Save the war stories for later. We should help Mrs. Ryan in the kitchen.” Gretchen pulled her harridan of a mother away, mouthing _Sorry_ back at Joey.

Karen, Pacey's co-worker from Civilization, came as well. She was quiet and seemed a little out-of-place, but she told Joey she wanted to come. “Pacey helped me out of, well, out of a bad relationship.” Joey knew immediately she'd been the one having an affair with Danny. “I thought I'd like to see what a good one looks like. You're all he talks about, you know? I half-expected you to glimmer and float on air.”

Joey liked Karen and thought they could become friends, but Karen explained she was leaving town in a few days. “I need a new start.”

The third new face was a girl Joey had met at Worthington. Audrey Liddell was loud, brash, an admitted party girl, and the last person on earth Joey thought she would make friends with. But Audrey had plopped herself next to Joey on their first day of biology lab and announced, “You look smart, which is great for me, because I'm here on the size of Daddy's checkbook. So how about it?”

“How about what?” Joey gave the stranger her best go-away-or-die glare, but Audrey was oblivious.

“Lab partners, you and me. I'll buy all the supplies, if you'll do most of the work.”

Joey was too financially strapped to turn down that offer, but she grew to like Audrey in a surprisingly short time. The first time they ate lunch together on campus, Audrey heckled all the people who stared at Joey's belly until the gawkers fled and Joey laughed instead of cried.

“So what's the deal with that anyway?” She gestured at Joey's body. “You religious or something?”

“Worse. In love.”

“True love? Seriously? I thought they outlawed that in this country after Kennedy was shot. Must be some guy, your man; I wouldn't suffer a paper cut for most guys I've met.”

Eventually, Joey introduced Audrey to Pacey. The blonde took one look at him and told her, “Now I get it.”

Pacey thought Audrey was hilarious. So did Jen. She drifted right into their little gang as though she had always belonged. Joey thought it was because they were all in awe of her no-holds-barred approach to life.

Jen was the one who organized Joey's shower. “It's part of my godmotherly duties,” she'd told her.

“Godmother? We're not Catholic, and you're an atheist.”

“And? Look, I practically match-made you two, you live in my house, and I'm your best friend with a vagina. I've got dibs.”

“Dibs. On godmother.”

Jen nodded, and, just like that, their baby had a godmother and shower planner. Joey had nixed Jen's male stripper plan, in deference to Mrs. Ryan, but the idea of making it a diaper shower—where the guests brought diapers, wipes, and other consumable necessities in lieu of more expensive gifts—Joey thought was genius.

Gail brought Lily with her. Six months old and utterly beautiful, the baby stole all the attention from Joey. Joey was fine with that.

“She's perfect,” she told Gail while the other ladies fussed over the baby in Gretchen's arms.

“She's spoiled,” Gail responded with a smile. “Not even a year old, and she's already got her father wrapped around her little finger. And Dawson—I don't think a week goes by without him sending her some little present. Most of them useless until she's old enough to watch Spielberg, of course.”

“Dawson's good, then?” Joey asked nervously. They tried to call each other every week or so, but sometimes they missed. Even when they did speak, there was more distance between them than ever before. Joey knew it had more to do with life changes than location ones. Still, she worried. She wanted him to be happy.

Gail read all that in a glance. She patted Joey's cheek, rounded from her pregnancy as it had been in girlhood. “Dawson is coping. You're a hard girl to forget, Joey Potter. I myself have had to let go of some daughter-in-law dreams, but I know well that you can't help who you fall in love with. I'm just glad you're happy.”

Tears in her eyes, Joey hugged her. “Thanks, Mrs. Leery.”

Mrs. Witter's voice rose above the rest. “So I said, 'Enough fooling around. You'll either drown, or you'll learn how to swim,' and threw Pacey off the boat.”

Joey winced. “If it's any consolation,” she told Gail in a low voice, “my mother-in-law dreams have turned into nightmares.”

“Every choice has its price, Joey.” Gail laughed and gave her a reassuring pat on the back.

~*~

With her due date fast approaching, Joey began to despair of ever finding a name for the baby. 

Even the last name had been a matter of debate for a while. Technically, since she and Pacey weren't married, the baby should have her last name, but Joey thought that was stupid and old-fashioned. Jen suggested a hyphenated name, but Pacey vetoed both Potter-Witter and Witter-Potter as too ridiculous. His alternative was a mashup name.

“Pitter or Wotter? Those are worse,” Joey said. “This baby will be a Witter, and convention can go hang.”

So the baby had a last name, but nothing to go with it. Pacey annoyed her by constantly suggesting the names of dead rock stars.

“I am not having a son named Hendrix, damn it!”

Dawson kept pushing for Steven, as in Spielberg, but said he'd settle for Frank, as in Kapra. Joey told him to have his own damn kid, except more kindly. It was a sore subject.

Jen's names all seemed to emerge from a world atlas, like London, Dallas and Danzig. Joey didn't hate them as names, but she couldn't see the point of naming her son after a place neither he nor his parents had ever been. And no way was she naming her kid Florida or Massachusetts.

Jack was obsessed with his new frat, and his few suggestions all sounded like it. Brad. Eric. Chris.

“Why would I name my kid after the type of people who make life suck for the rest of us?”

Mrs. Ryan's names came from the Bible, Bessie's from romance novels, Bodie's all sounded like food.

“The problem, Jo, is that you don't suggest any names yourself. You just shoot down other people's.”

“I'll know it when I hear it,” she insisted.

As it happened, she didn't hear it. She saw it.

It was the last week of October, a few days before Halloween and only a few more before her due date. Between anxiety, the constant need to urinate, and the inability to find any position approaching comfortable, Joey could not sleep. Her twisting, turning and repeated trips to the bathroom woke Pacey.

“What is it?” he asked, still blurry from sleep. “You okay, Jo?”

“Can't sleep.” And maybe it was her resentment at his drooping eyelids that made her ask, “Can you read to me, Pace?”

“What time is it?” Pacey mumbled. But he turned on the light and grabbed a book, like the well-trained boyfriend he was.

“ _Many years ago, there lived an emperor who was so very fond of beautiful, new clothes, that_...” Pacey had picked up the volume of fairy tales which was the very first book they ever read together.

Joey's irritation fell away at the memory. She turned on her side to watch Pacey read, and there was her son's name on the front of the book, shimmering in gold typescript.

“Andersen,” she breathed. She swore the baby kicked the moment she said it.

“What, love?” Pacey asked, fighting a yawn.

Joey closed the book and pointed at the author's name. “Andersen. Andersen Douglas Witter. It's his name.”

“Andersen.” Pacey tested the name before smiling. “I like it. But Dougie, really? How's he rate the middle?”

“Through a lifetime of putting up with you.” She tweaked his ear. “Would you prefer Dawson?”

“Douglas, it is.” Pacey put both hands to the sides of her belly, the way he always did while talking to the baby. “Hear that, little man? We've got everything ready for you now. Even your name. Andersen.”

Andersen kicked again.

~*~

The good news, as far as Joey was concerned, was that she wasn't in class when she went into labor. The bad news was everything else. She had thought she was prepared for the pain, but _nothing_ could prepare you for that. All women were martyrs, and Bessie was a saint, because when the first contraction hit, Joey screamed bloody murder.

Her yell brought Mrs. Ryan—the only other person home—running. “Josephine, child, what is it?”

“It's time,” she hissed. She was in agony and scared, and the sight of Mrs. Ryan brought on flashbacks of Alexander's birth. Joey did not want to have this baby in a living room chair.

But Mrs. Ryan was the best person to have in an emergency. She stroked back Joey's hair, unfazed. “Of course, dear. Do you have the car, or should I call a taxi?”

The contraction eased, and Joey could breathe again. “It's here.” She gestured to the set of keys hanging by the door. Over the last few weeks, Pacey started taking the bus to work, in case of just this event.

“All right. Your suitcase is by the door. We'll call Pacey and Jennifer from the hospital. Is there anything else you need?” Mrs. Ryan's low, calm tone forced Joey to be rational. She must have been a great nurse.

“No, no, I'm good. Wait! _Andersen's Fairy Tales_. It's upstairs, on my dresser. I want it.”

Mrs. Ryan gave her a look that questioned the importance of fairy tales at a time like this, but she climbed the two flights of stairs without a word of argument. By the time she returned, Joey was in the midst of her next contraction. Mrs. Ryan held her hand and talked her through it, then helped her with her shoes and got her to the car before the next one hit.

Joey had visions of getting stuck in traffic and being forced to give birth in the backseat of the Wagoneer, but they never materialized. Her contractions were still three minutes apart when Mrs. Ryan got her into Admitting. While Joey filled out paperwork—paperwork in the middle of this pain!—Mrs. Ryan used a payphone to call Pacey at the restaurant, Jen at the radio station, and Bessie in Capeside.

“Pacey is on his way, dear,” Mrs. Ryan told her, while an orderly wheeled Joey to her room. “Jennifer has to finish her broadcast; then she'll be here as well. She says she'll try to track down Jack, and that you're to listen to the radio. She's going to dedicate a song to you.” Grams smiled with pride in her granddaughter.

“And Bessie?” Joey followed the nurse's instructions, changing into a hospital gown, while Mrs. Ryan waited outside the curtain.

“I couldn't reach her, so I called the Leerys. Mitchell said they've probably taken Alexander trick-or-treating, and he would keep trying until he got through.”

“Trick-or-treating?” Joey tried to settle into the hospital bed as another contraction started. She had forgotten what day it was. “I don't want...to have...this baby...on Halloween.” She screamed. Mrs. Ryan rushed through the curtain, taking Joey's hand, even though Joey was afraid she'd break it. 

The pressure receded, and Joey fell back against the pillows. “It would make Dawson entirely too happy.”

The nurse returned to hook Joey and baby up to the necessary machines. Joey asked for drugs—she had zero desire to experience natural childbirth—and Mrs. Ryan asked to borrow a radio. They both got their requests, and Joey relaxed a little while Grams fiddled with the dials until Jen's voice came through.

Jen was in the middle of another man-hating diatribe. It was the last thing Joey needed, wishing for Pacey with every other breath. Mrs. Ryan didn't enjoy the show any more than Joey did, clucking her tongue and making horrified sounds whenever Jen talked about sex. Which was often. The contractions were almost a relief, as they took focus from the show.

Pacey finally arrived, still in his uniform, wild-eyed and panicked. Mrs. Ryan ceded her seat at Joey's side to him. He kissed her hair, rubbed his nose against her cheek. “I'm so sorry, Jo. How are you doing?”

“Better now.” She took his hand, comforted by how large and strong it was. “Nothing to do you with you, though. I think the drugs are starting to kick in.”

He smiled weakly at her joke. Mrs. Ryan suggested her removal to give them privacy. Joey thanked her for everything. Pacey gave her Gretchen's number and asked if Mrs. Ryan would let her know. Gretch could inform the rest of the Witter brood.

“I give you fair warning, Pacey, if your mother tries to come in here while I am in labor, I will get out of this bed and throw her bodily from the window.”

Before Pacey could respond to Joey's half-serious threat, the song on the radio ended, and Jen's voice floated out to them. “Going to end the show on a slightly different note tonight. None of my listeners can doubt I am a certified cynic when it comes to all things romantic. Nevertheless, I've been in the bizarre position of watching two of my best friends fall sickeningly in love with each other and somehow stay that way over the last three years. Tonight, they're having a baby. And while, yes, I, too, can think of a million jokes comparing Halloween to the horrors of labor and child-rearing, I'm instead going to ruin all my credibility by saying, I love you guys. All the luck in the world. And Joey? Here's a little something to help you out.”

The sounds of Salt-n-Pepa's “Push It” coincided with Joey's next contraction. Nothing like being caught mid-laugh to make the pain even more unbearable.

“She knows this song is about sex, right?” Pacey asked, to distract from his fear at seeing Joey's labor pains.

“She's Jen...of course...she knows.” Joey crushed Pacey's fingers between her own.

When the contraction ended, Pacey stared at her in awe. “Joey, I—”

“Pace, let's make a pact. Right now. To avoid all the cliches of childbirth.”

Pacey grinned. “All right, I'll bite. Like what?”

“You are not going to tell me how much you love me after each contraction. We'll take it for a given that I know that. In return, I won't scream that I hate you and you're never touching me again in one breath, then beg you to stay with me in the next. We already know you aren't getting any for at least six weeks—let's face it, it's me, so probably longer—but that you'll still stay and probably be annoyingly perfect about the whole thing.”

“And your longstanding hatred of me is a matter of public record, so why belabor the point?”

“Exactly.” Joey gritted her teeth as another contraction beset her.

“We could be truly original, and I could scream how much I hate you, while you tell me all the ways you love me.”

“Don't push your luck, Witter.”

~*~

Jen arrived soon after, sans Jack, who was at his frat party, she told them with annoyance. She visited with them long enough to assure them she was there, then joined Mrs. Ryan in the maternity ward's crowded waiting room.

Gretchen joined them about an hour later. “I convinced Mom and Pops to wait until after the baby's born, but Dougie is driving up after his shift. Also, I hope I didn't overstep, but I called Dawson. I figured he'd want to know and might not be on anyone's list.”

Pacey studied his sister carefully. She looked at Joey and avoided his gaze. “That's fine, Gretch. I didn't know you and Dawson were in touch.”

“We talk sometimes. It's no big deal. We're too smart to do the long distance thing, but I still care about him.”

By this point, Joey was too exhausted to speculate on Dawson's love life. She only wanted to know one thing. “He's not coming here, too, is he?” Her labor room was starting to feel like a revolving door.

“Uh, no. He said to tell you good luck, how great it is that you're having a Halloween baby—”

Joey snorted.

“—that he'll call you tomorrow, and he can't wait to meet the little monster when he comes home for Thanksgiving.” Message delivered, Gretchen took Joey's hint to vacate. She hugged Pacey tight, whispered something in his ear, and left in search of their little support group.

“What did she say?” Joey asked, after the next contraction.

“Huh?” Pacey looked both frazzled and frumpy. Joey didn't even want to think about how she must look.

“Gretchen. What did she whisper, a caution against pissing me off?”

“No, actually. She, she said she was proud of me.” Pacey's eyes were owl-wide, like he couldn't believe it.

“Of course she is. I've long held that Gretchen is the only other legitimate human being in your family.” She rested a hand on his cheek. “I'm proud of you, too, you know.”

Pacey turned his head and kissed her palm. “Shouldn't I be the one saying that to you?”

Joey shook her head. “Too cliché.”

~*~

It was almost midnight before the only other person Joey wanted in the delivery room arrived. 

“Sorry it took me so long.” Bessie had changed into sweats, but hadn't bothered to wash the zombie makeup off her face.

Under the influence of drugs, fatigue, and another gruesome contraction, Joey couldn't help but scream when she looked up at her sister. “What is that?”

“Oh, sorry, Jo. We were at a Halloween party. Alexander had just passed out in a sugar coma when Mitch called. I rushed right out the door, didn't even remember my license, so it's a good thing I didn't get pulled over. Bodie sends his love.”

“I don't want it,” Joey hissed, temper fraying after hours of pain and stress. “I want you to wash that stuff off your face and then get back here. I need you, Bess.”

Bessie's face was soft, even under the bloody makeup. “I'm here, sis.” She rushed off to follow Joey's instructions, but was back in minutes. She took her place across from Pacey, holding Joey's other hand. She stroked her little sister's hair, the way their mother used to do, and told her again, “I'm here, sis. Everything is going to be okay.”

~*~

After eleven excruciating hours of labor, Andersen Douglas Witter entered the world in the early hours of November 1, 2001, all red, squawking 7 lbs, 13 oz. of him. They placed him in Joey's arms, and she thought, _he's so ugly_. And then, _he's so beautiful_. And then, _I never knew I could love anyone so much_.

The nurses took him away again. Joey was too tired to protest, too tired even to berate Pacey for the way he kept whispering, “I love you, I love you,” into her hair.

She slept.


	4. Chapter 4

**IV.**

Andersen Obadiah Potter was born in the early hours of November 1, 2001. Mrs. Ryan was with Joey throughout her labor, with Bessie joining them before the end.

Bodie was shocked when he found out Joey had named her son for him. “Don't get me wrong, Joey. I'm completely flattered, but you know even I hate the name Obadiah, right?”

“Doesn't matter. Everyone hates their middle name. It builds character.” Joey stuck her tongue out at him.

Bodie smiled and kissed his namesake on the forehead.

*~*~*~*

“So any chance you'll let me call Daddy and tell him the good news?”

Joey glared at Jen. As much as she could glare at anyone holding her sleeping, newborn son. Jen refused to let the Pacey issue drop. 

Joey had gotten as far as five digits in Pacey's phone number, walked as far as the entrance to the wharf. But she always came to her senses in time. Pacey had been in Boston for almost a month; if he wanted to see her, he'd have done so by now.

“No, Jen. As self-appointed godmother to my son and default-acquired current best friend to myself, I expect you to honor my wishes in this.”

Jen shook her head, never taking her eyes off the sleeping infant in her arms. “It's times like this I'm glad I don't believe in hell. Keeping this kind of secret has to get you sent straight there.”

~*~

**I.**

The rest of her hospital stay was a blur of postpartum tears, learning how to feed this strange little creature whose very sustenance came from her body, and dealing with the crowd of intrusive friends and family who all wanted to hold the baby. Joey was irrationally afraid that everyone would drop him.

The women who had been there all night were the first, of course. Mrs. Ryan performed an inventory of all his various fingers and toes, while Bessie, Gretchen and Jen argued good-naturedly over which of them would be his favorite auntie.

A few hours later, Doug showed up. When Pacey told him the baby's name, he sat stunned, fighting back tears, for a full minute before giving his brother a huge, soppy hug.

Less touching was the afternoon visit from Pacey's parents. Mrs. Witter observed that Andersen was a wussy name and the baby was likely to be colicky. Sheriff Witter wondered how they were going to pay the hospital bill and refused to listen to Pacey's defense. He did slip his son a hundred dollars on their way out, but Joey saw Pacey rest his head on the door after shutting it behind them.

He took a deep breath, then turned back to Joey and the baby. “I've figured out how I'm going to be a good dad,” he said, lowering himself carefully onto the bed next to her.

Joey shifted to give him more room. “How's that?”

“I'm going to think, 'what would my parents do?' and then do the exact opposite.” He touched Andersen's cheek with a single finger. Pacey's hand was large enough to cover the baby's whole face, but he was beautifully gentle. 

Andersen turned toward the touch, eyes closed, little mouth open and searching.

A sudden thought struck Joey. “Pace, have you held him yet?”

Pacey pulled his hand away quickly. “Uh, no, but it's okay, Jo. I know you haven't liked sharing him.”

“With _them_ , not with _you_. Pacey, you're his dad. He needs to get to know you, your touch, your smell.” She turned to hand him the baby, but Pacey didn't reach for him.

“What if I hurt him? Or drop him?”

“Don't be stupid. You never dropped Alexander, or Lily, or your nieces. You're good with babies, sweetheart.” Joey frowned, not understanding his fear. “What's this really about?”

His eyes were fastened on Andersen's misshapen face. “What if I screw this up, Jo? Of all the things in my life, this is the one time I've got to get it right, and I don't know if I can.”

“Pacey, every parent feels like that. _I_ feel like that. All we can do is love him and try our best. Here, take him.” Not taking no for an answer this time, Joey pushed Andersen against his chest and waited until Pacey's arms came up to cradle him. Then she released her son and sat back to watch.

Pacey's expression was one of unconcealed wonder. Tears pooled in his eyes. “Hi,” he said in a choked voice. “Hey, kiddo. I'm your dad.” He seemed stunned by the thought and repeated it in an awestruck whisper, “I'm your dad. Not sure I'll be any good at it, but I'll try. I'll try never to make you feel like you're not good enough. I want you to know that I'll love you no matter what you do or say, or how bad you screw up.” He glanced at Joey. She knew her face was awash in tears.

“And the good thing is,” Pacey went on in a stronger voice, “You've got this amazing mom, who'll keep us both sorted out. She's fierce as a tiger, and you gotta watch out for her temper.” Joey elbowed his ribs. “Ow. See what I mean? But she's the smartest person in the world. She'll know the answer to every question you could possibly ask. But mostly...” Pacey looked at Joey as he finished, “mostly, she'll make you feel safe and loved and happier than you have any right to be.”

Joey hid her face in Pacey's neck and sobbed.

~*~

Returning to school four days after giving birth was the hands-down stupidest thing Joey had done in her life, but she didn't have a choice. Finals were rapidly approaching, and she'd missed too many classes already.

Pacey drove her rather than letting her use public transport or drive herself. But still, her legs felt wobbly, her body ached, and the ever-present tears surged at every thought of Andersen, even left in Mrs. Ryan's capable hands. 

Whatever Pacey said, Joey knew she was a terrible mother.

Concentrating on lectures was a pain. Keeping her emotions under control was a challenge. Finding the time and place to use her breast pump was a humiliating and painful introduction to modern motherhood.

What was wrong with her, imagining she could be a mother and a scholar, too?

Joey called Mrs. Ryan during every break, but her cheerful and encouraging reports of Andersen's day only served to make Joey more miserable.

Jen picked her up after her last class, as Pacey had to work. It was all Joey could do not to beg Jen to break speed laws driving home. Joey was out of the car before it was fully in park and only felt moderately human again once Anders was in her arms, safe at her breast.

*~*~*~*  
 **IV.**

Joey took more pictures of Andersen than even the most devoted new mother. She bought and kept a scrapbook for recording all his milestones. She journaled every day of his infancy. 

She refused to admit even to herself why she did this. But there was an unsealed envelope kept in the front of the scrapbook, containing a letter Joey wrote and rewrote regularly. The envelope had no stamp, no mailing address, just _Pacey Witter_ scrawled across the front.

*~*~*~*

Joey opted to spend Thanksgiving in Boston with Grams and Jen. She invited Bessie and her family up to join them. Her reasons for this were very clear. Andersen hadn't had his shots yet and should be exposed to as few people as possible. He'd yet to take any kind of long car ride, as well.

“Plus, let's face it, your Grams is a far better cook than Bessie or I. Last year, we burnt the bird,” she told Jen, who continued to express doubts about Joey's motives.

“And it's not like your _de facto_ brother-in-law is a chef or anything.”

“That's why Bodie's bringing dessert.”

Jen threw down her knitting. She was making Anders an adorable blue hat and booties which matched his eyes. “You're just afraid of running into Pacey in Capeside. Admit it.”

Joey finished nursing and lifted Andersen for a burp. “You're the one who's obsessed with him, not me. My life is far too busy to spare a thought for the comings and goings of my ex-boyfriends.”

“I don't know which possibility I find most appalling, Joey. The idea that you're lying to me, lying to yourself, or not lying at all.”

Andersen spit up on her shoulder.

~*~

**I.**

By Thanksgiving, Joey was on a more even keel, emotionally speaking. She still didn't like leaving Anders the hours a day for class, but Pacey and her friends had convinced her she wasn't a terrible mother for it. It helped that Andersen was small and sweet enough that she could do most of her studying with him beside her. And it helped that she was able to arrange her next semester so she would only have classes three days a week.

But the treasure was four days in Capeside, when Pacey didn't have to work, she didn't have class, and they could relax and enjoy their new little family and the town that made them. 

They stayed with Bessie and Bodie at the B&B. With Mrs. Ryan now settled in Boston, the Leerys had offered to host this year's Thanksgiving dinner. Grams and Jen were headed to New York to suffer through the holiday with Jen's parents. Jack and his dad were in Italy with Andie. So the Thanksgiving crowd would be made up entirely of Leerys, Potters, and Witters, which gave Joey odd childhood flashbacks.

“I half-expect to be seated at the kids' table,” she told Pacey as they crunched their way hand-in-hand through the blanket of snow to the Leerys' front porch. In her free hand, Joey carried their contribution to the meal—cranberries, not from a can this year, some complex salad Pacey had made. Joey had sneaked a bite; it tasted divine.

Pacey snorted, his breath visible in the cold air. “Probably be more fun.” He had Andersen's diaper bag slung over his shoulder, the baby's blanket-shrouded carseat in hand. Joey wondered if he'd believe her if she told him how sexy he looked.

Bessie, Bodie and Alexander walked ahead of them, so the door was already open when they arrived. The warmth of the Leery house enveloped Joey the moment she stepped through the door; it felt like coming home.

“Joey! You look fantastic!” Gail greeted her with a warm hug. “Pacey, get that baby out of the cold!”

Mitch stood by to help them out of their coats and winter things. Pacey was uncovering Andersen in his carseat when Gretchen barreled around the corner, dragging Dawson by the hand.

“Gimme my nephew,” Gretchen demanded, letting go of Dawson to reach for the baby. “How'd he grow so much in a week?”

Pacey proudly transferred his son from the carseat to his aunt's arms.

Joey stood awkwardly rocking on her toes next to Dawson. He seemed as chagrined, gazing from Gretchen and the baby to Joey and back again.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dawson,” she blurted out.

Dawson smiled. His stance relaxed. “Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, Joey.” He pulled her in for a hug. “And congratulations. He's beautiful.”

“Thank you.” Joey was glad the hug lasted just as long as it should and didn't linger and was ecstatic when Dawson immediately afterwards turned to Pacey and shook his hand.

“Pace. Congratulations, man.”

Pacey clapped Dawson on the shoulder. “Thanks, D. Happy Thanksgiving. How's California?” The two walked away, catching up, laughing. Friends again, like nothing had ever changed.

Joey caught Gretchen watching them go with a satisfied smile on her face. “So you and Dawson...that's happening again?”

Gretchen laughed, shrugged, shook her head. “Who knows? What I do know is that my new nephew is the most beautiful boy on the planet.”

Joey rubbed the soft baby-fuzz on the top of his head. He blinked up at her, his mouth twisted in a funny half-smile. “He's got his daddy's eyes.”

“And his mommy's smile,” Gretchen added. “Come on, I'll show you where to put the food. I'm not giving up this little guy for a while.”

~*~

As it turned out, there was no kids' table this year. Kerry's terrors were with their father's family, and Alexander and Lily were still in high chairs. Andersen slept through the meal in his carseat at Joey's feet.

They were a large, rowdy group, given that all the Witter siblings showed up for the first time since Joey couldn't remember when. Pacey seemed genuinely happy, flushed and proud, as he showed off the baby. Dawson, Joey, Pacey and their siblings spent a lot of the meal recounting childhood memories. Every once in a while, Pacey's mom would say something that left him cringing and Joey gritting her teeth, but, overall, everyone was on their best behavior.

The good feeling continued into the recitation of thanks. Sheriff Witter made Joey roll her eyes when he expressed his thanks for the Patriots' winning start to the season, but Mrs. Witter surprised her by being grateful to have all her children under one roof again.

“I feel abundantly blessed this year,” Mitch said. “My beautiful wife, our film-student son, and this perfect baby girl. A warm roof over our heads, good food to eat, and good friends to share it with.”

They all raised their glasses in honor of the sentiment.

“I don't even know what to add to that,” Gail said next. “So I'll be totally shallow and say I'm glad the restaurant is turning a profit. Oh! And I'm glad to not be pregnant anymore.”

“Amen to that,” mumbled Joey.

“Uh, me next?” said Dawson. “I guess what I'm most grateful for this year are second chances, and even third.” He tipped his cup toward Pacey and Joey, then reached over and took Gretchen's hand.

Gretchen squeezed his fingers. “I'm thankful for the unexpected path, the twists life throws at you, the ones you don't see coming but that make you who you are and bring you where you're meant to be.”

“That's all well and good,” put in Bessie. “But my biggest thanks this year is that Alexander is finally potty-trained.”

Everyone laughed, and Pacey kept sniggering when Doug was most grateful for a “world full of beautiful music.”

“It won't exactly shock anyone if I say I'm grateful for Andersen, will it?” Joey said to the smiles of her family. “He's the best thing that's ever happened in my life. And despite some definite tragedies...” She shared a thought with Bessie for their mother. “Looking around this table, I realize life has been pretty good to me.”

Pacey put his arm around the back of her chair and caressed her shoulder with his fingertips. “Can I just say ditto?”

“No.” Mitch wadded up his napkin and threw it at Pacey.

Pacey ducked theatrically. “Okay, okay. I am grateful for my son, but I'm also grateful for this incredible, luminous woman who gave him to me.” He nuzzled Joey's face with his own, then dropped his head when his sisters started whistling.

Bodie cleared his throat. “On that note, I have my own incredible Potter sister to be grateful for.” He stood up, then sank to one knee by Bessie's chair. “Elizabeth Potter, you've given me everything beautiful in my life. I would consider it a privilege to give my life back to you.” He produced a box with something small and sparkly inside. “I love you, Bess. Will you marry me?”

“Are you kidding me? Yes, yes, of course, yes!” Bessie threw her arms around his neck and kissed him.

Amid the flurry of congratulations, Andersen awoke and started to cry. Joey snatched him up and fled the room, grateful no one could see hers was the only face not smiling.

~*~

“I know you're upset,” Pacey said, as he got ready for bed that night.

“I'm not upset.” Joey had Andersen to her shoulder, trying to coax a burp out of him before he fell asleep.

“You _are_ upset, and I know why. It's Bessie and Bodie, right?”

“I'm not upset,” Joey snapped. She gave up on the burp and lay Anders down in the portable playpen serving as his crib at the B&B.

“You're upset because if Bessie and Bodie get married, you're convinced something terrible will happen. They'll learn to hate each other, or one of them will cheat, or...” He grabbed her arm and drew her to him, his blue eyes infinitely kind as they searched her face. “One of them will die.”

Tears flooded her eyes. “I don't know what's wrong with me, Pace. I don't _want_ to feel this way. I know it's irrational, but I can't help it. I'm scared.”

“Jo, it's okay. But you know the last time you had an irrational fear?”

Joey shrugged and dropped her eyes. “Sex.”

Pacey linked their fingers together and said in a low voice, “And how'd you get past it?”

“By having a lot of sex with you.” Joey huffed a laugh and pushed him away. “Hasn't been six weeks yet, you horndog, and I'm not marrying you to get over my fear of marriage.”

“Wasn't suggesting it, though the sex part sounds nice.”

“Pacey!” she warned as she turned down their covers.

Pacey hopped into bed. “All I'm saying, Jo, is that maybe Bessie and Bodie will have a beautiful marriage, and it might help your fear go away.”

“Or it will be a disaster, and all my worst fears will be confirmed.” She slipped into bed next to him and turned off the lamp.

Pacey curled his body around her. “In that case, Potter,” he purred in her ear, “you and I will just live happily in sin together 'til the end of our days.”

Joey smiled in the dark. “I can think of worse fates.”

*~*~*

**III.**

Whatever Pacey had been about to say that night after the wake, he wasn't in a hurry to say it. Joey barely saw him over the succeeding weeks, and only in group settings. She tried to find excuses for it. He had work; she had school. They didn't exactly travel in the same circles anymore. But it felt more like studied avoidance. They had gotten close to something that night, something that scared them both.

Pushing thoughts of Pacey aside, Joey threw herself into her research project for Professor Wilder. She was aware that she had developed something of a crush on her handsome, charming teacher, but she wasn't concerned about it.

Over the long summer months, Joey had come to some important realizations about herself and sex. She was on the pill now, but she would never forget the horror of looking at those two lines on the pregnancy test. She vowed to herself never to let a man into her body unless she loved him enough to risk the stick and the white room. Maybe that made her a prude—Pacey and Audrey would probably agree that it did—but she felt comfortable in her decision. Confident, even.

Confident enough to flirt with her cute professor, knowing it would never go anywhere.

While Joey was swearing off sex, Dawson finally started having it. He and Jen hooked up in the wake of his father's death. Everyone seemed to expect Joey to react badly, but aside from a passing worry that Jen might end up in a white room of her own, Joey was fine. She doubted their viability as a long-term couple—she'd seen them try before—but she was glad Dawson had found something that made him happy.

In the wake of the revelation, Pacey sought her out alone. It was only to reassure himself of what Joey had already told them all—that she was okay. But he did hug her. More than that. He _held_ her. The embrace lingered. Underneath the spices he'd cooked with, she could smell sea and wind and Pacey. Joey felt safe, like she fit. The pieces which made up her were falling back into place.

Then he pulled away and walked her to her dorm, talking about nothing in particular, and said good night and left. Those fragile pieces slipped away with him.

*~*~*

He found her again during Christmas break to offer her a ride back to Boston. Joey was afraid she gave herself away by how eager she was to accept, but Pacey didn't seem to notice.

He was too busy showing off his new car. He dropped hints that there was a story to it, but he didn't tell her. It was further proof of how far apart they'd drifted that he didn't explain, and she didn't make him.

But then he called her on her grade obsession and predicted everything she would eventually do, and Joey thought, _he_ is _the one who knows me best_.

Pacey mentioned a waitress job open at his restaurant. Joey was flattered that he thought of her, wondered if he wanted an excuse to see her every day, but was of no mind to take it for any number of reasons. She hated waitressing, and she was enjoying her first year not working since she was fourteen. She didn't trust herself to be that close to Pacey that often without breaking. And she suspected Pacey was involved in some way with one of his co-workers. If so, the last thing she wanted to do was confirm it.

Pacey wasn't like her. He'd abstained from sex for months, waiting for her, because he loved her. Joey was under no illusions about how he would behave now he was free. But if it was only an abstract knowledge, she didn't have to think about Pacey in bed with someone else, falling in love with someone else, or—worse yet—about another woman with a stick in her hand making a different choice and taking even the possibility of Pacey away from her forever.

So it was easy to turn down the job. It was harder to hear Audrey jump at it. But Joey shrugged it off and checked her grades, flirted with her professor and met Pacey and Audrey at a bar to celebrate.

That night, Joey was buzzed without a single drink. Because Pacey was definitely flirting with her. He touched her—okay, the high five was awkward, but afterward he caught her hand, brushed his thumb along her palm. He entered her personal space, so her body tingled with awareness of him; she felt high from a whiff of his aftershave. He even brought up their past, as though _True Love_ was no longer taboo. When he practically dared her onto the stage, how could she refuse? And while she sang, Pacey cheered louder than anyone.

Afterwards, she fended off the advances of that asshole who'd cheated on Jen. By the time she escaped from backstage, Pacey and Audrey were nowhere to be seen. Body already coursing with adrenaline, panic had no problem seizing control.

“Excuse me.” Joey grabbed one of the men she remembered ogling Audrey while she played pool. “Did you see where my friends went? A guy, tall, dark-haired, and a blond woman, curvy, shorter than me?”

“The one with the—” He made an obscene gesture. “They left together about five minutes ago. Lucky bastard.” He leaned in close enough she gagged from the beer on his breath. “Say, if you need a ride...”

Joey pushed him away. “I'm fine, thanks.” She threaded her way through the crowd and out into the cold Boston night air. Sure enough, Pacey's shiny new car was gone. Joey fell back against the brick wall, trying not to hyperventilate. 

“Don't think about it,” she told herself. “Just don't think about it.”

“Hey, you need a lift?” It was that toad Charlie. He was on a motorcycle. Of course he had a motorcycle.

“Not from you,” she hissed.

“Safely to your door and no funny business. Scout's honor.”

Perhaps because he did the salute properly, or perhaps because he was her best option, Joey decided to trust him. She gave him her address and hopped on the back. She knew he was enjoying having her wrapped around him far too much, but at least with the wind in her face, she wasn't required to talk to him.

Charlie tried to wheedle an invitation to her dorm room when they arrived. Joey was half-tempted to give him one. If Pacey was there with Audrey, at least she'd get some of her own back. But Joey had never been the kind of girl who played games like that and wouldn't start now. She thanked Charlie for the ride and bid him good night.

It took every ounce of willpower she possessed to walk the familiar path to her room. If the scrunchie was on the knob, Joey knew she was going to be sick; even if it wasn't, it didn't prove anything. They could have gone to Pacey's. Joey had a vision of Audrey holding the stick with two lines on it. She leaned against a wall, dizzy.

No scrunchie on the door. Not proof. Light peeking out from under the door. Better. Screaming, god-awful noise masquerading as music pulsing from behind said door. Best. No way would Pacey allow that racket in his presence.

Joey closed her eyes and breathed. Everything was all right.

“Hey, bunny!” Audrey looked surprised as Joey walked into their room. She flipped her magazine shut and turned down her stereo several decibels. “What the hell are you doing back here? I thought for sure you'd hook up with the hottie in the band.”

“You've got to be kidding me. Even if I were the type to hook up with a random guy, which I'm not and never will be, I would not pick one who has already slept with and cheated on one of my friends.”

“Okay. Sorry. Chill. I just thought with you being 'other Joey' tonight—”

“There is no other Joey. There's just me, a fully rounded individual, who likes getting good grades and pushes myself to excel, but occasionally does rash, ill-considered things, especially when _he's_ around.” All her panic of the past hour was rapidly transforming to rage at the man who caused her unnecessary fear.

“Who, Pacey?”

“Yes, Pacey. I can't believe you two ditched me, by the way. Why'd you leave?”

“I told you, I thought you'd hooked up, so I told Pacey, and we left. I thought I was doing you a favor, you know, get the ex-boyfriend out of there before he meets the new fling.”

“He _believed_ you?”

“I can be _very_ convincing.” Audrey pouted lasciviously.

Joey's hands clenched and unclenched. Between Audrey's mentions of her crush on Professor Wilder and now this, Pacey was getting entirely the wrong idea. She fought a fleeting urge to strangle her roommate. “Next time, ask if I want to be ditched. Don't just leave me. I had to bum a ride on asshole Charlie's motorcycle.”

Audrey squealed and bounced on her bed, clutching her hideous, fuzzy, pink pillow. “Ooh, you rode a motorcycle? Not as good as sex, but not half-bad, either. Your body wrapped around his, all that power under your thighs. Did you come?”

Joey wrinkled her nose. “Gross.”

“You're never going to answer my orgasm questions, are you? I was half-tempted to ask Pacey tonight. I mean, if any guy's going to make you see stars, it's that one. Just look at his hands.”

“I'm not discussing Pacey with you, Audrey, and I'd appreciate it if you didn't discuss me with him.” _I'd appreciate it if you stayed the hell away from my boyfriend_ , her inner voice raged, but she tamped it down. Pacey wasn't her boyfriend anymore.

“Sure, okay, no problem. I can see why you fell for him, though. I mean, you two were totally doomed from the start, but I bet it was fun while it lasted.”

“Doomed? Why doomed?”

“Please, Little Miss Uptight and the quintessential slacker? That has a definite sell-by date, even if you didn't already have a soulmate in one Dawson Leery.”

Joey frowned. Was Audrey right? Was there no possible way she and Pacey could have lasted? Pacey had thought that at the end, but Joey, in her land of what-ifs, saw many ways they could have worked it out. Most of them involving no lines on a stick. All of them containing no lies.

“Are you really not going to tell me anymore about him?”

“Why do you want to know?” Joey was growing suspicious of Audrey's interest in Pacey. She might have jumped ahead a bit in her assumptions tonight, but that didn't mean she was altogether wrong.

Audrey lay back on her bed, staring at the ceiling. “I don't know. He's just...interesting.”

_He's just mine_ , Joey thought, but did not say.

~*~*~

**II.**

Life settled into a pleasant routine, with school and study, friends and Pacey. She spent more nights on the boat than in her dorm room, much to Audrey's amusement. Pacey loved his job, Joey loved her classes, and the year was promising to be even better than the one before.

It was a cold day in late January when Pacey sought Joey out in her dorm. She was surprised to see him, because he knew she had a major paper due the next day. Thus, dorm room, instead of boat. Pacey was always distracting.

“Hey, Jo, sorry to interrupt, but I've got to talk to you.”

Something about the look on his face and the way he couldn't stop moving, pacing the room like a caged cat, put her instantly on edge. She sank onto her bed, hands clasped in her lap. “Okay. So talk.”

“I've been offered a chance to crew a ship in the Greek Isles. The dean's brother and his wife are taking a trip, and I was recommended to them.”

Pacey waited a moment for Joey to respond. When she didn't, he added, “It wouldn't be as long as last time, only a month or two. So what do you think?”

Joey kept her expression carefully neutral. Her hands were clenched so tightly her nails bit into skin. “What do Taylor and son think?”

“That's the thing. They're all for it. The old man kept talking—you know the way he does—about how the only way to know the seas of the world is to sail them, and the only way to build a sound ship is to know the sea. They'll hold my job for me. The only question is—” 

“Me.” Joey studied his eager face. That light of wanderlust was there again. She sighed. “Same rules as before?”

“Absolutely. Jo, you're the best!” He leaned down and gave her a sloppy, prolonged kiss.

_Yeah, I'm the best_ , Joey thought bitterly after Pacey left to accept the job and let her work on her paper. She agreed to his going because she had to, because if she didn't, he would resent her, and the next time he sailed away, it might be with no rules and no return date.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

“He's leaving again,” Jen announced as she barreled into Joey's room without knocking.

“Who, Jack?”

Jack had been bouncing back and forth between their home and the frat house all year. Jen had not taken it well.

“No. Pacey.”

Joey was glad she was already sitting at her desk. Jen couldn't see the way her legs turned to jelly. She highlighted the next line in her anthropology text without reading what it said. “Where's he off to this time?”

“No! No, Joey, this time I mean it. He says he's leaving because he doesn't—and I quote here—'have a reason to stay.' Either you race over to the man this minute and give him his reason, or I'll start showing him the same courtesy I show you and never tell you another word about him.”

What Jen threw out as a dire threat, Joey accepted with nothing but gratitude. If Pacey truly loved Joey, she would have been his reason to stay. Since he didn't and she wasn't, better he be gone entirely, even from conversation. It would help her forget faster.

“I wish him godspeed.”

Pacey was gone the next day. Jen didn't speak to her for a month.

*~*~*

**III.**

Joey was walking home from Professor Wilder's latest gathering when she got Dawson's phone call. Picking out the relevant bits from his frantic ranting, Joey was left with this: Pacey and Audrey. Something between the two of them was throwing off the movie Dawson was trying to shoot.

_Oh God_ , she thought, _am I really going to have to face this?_

But she went anyway. Because Dawson was her friend and asked it of her, and because she'd rather have the knife to the heart than the slow poison. Also, they were filming in Joey's dorm room; she didn't have many other places she could go.

She went, and the details were made clearer. They were supposed to be filming a love scene between Audrey and Charlie. Audrey kept insisting Charlie was being inappropriate—which he probably was—and Pacey, who was helping crew, was becoming confrontational with Dawson's lead actor. Finally, Audrey had retreated to the bathroom and refused to finish the scene.

Joey grabbed Pacey by the ear—harder than she needed to—and pulled him into the bathroom with her. Once there, Joey demanded the truth of both of them. With much shame-facedness, they confessed to having made out.

There. The blow was struck. No gentle suction tube to ease the pain. Just the heartsick ache of betrayal.

“Joey, say something. Curse at me, tell me I'm the world's worst roommate, suggest a threesome, I don't care, just _something_.”

“I never knew before how Dawson must have felt on the porch that night.”

Audrey looked confused, but Pacey flinched as if she'd struck him.

“Jo, I—”

“It's all right, Pacey.” She waved away his defense. If she had to stand here and listen to it, she was going to throw up. Or cry. Or both. She would like to escape with a modicum of dignity intact. “I'm not Dawson. No threats, or ultimatums, or bitter accusations. I'm only going to say what I wish he'd said then: you two are my friends, and I want you to be happy, so don't feel guilty on my account.” 

Joey had her hand on the door, quite proud of her little speech and eager to get away before she collapsed, when she remembered the reason she'd been summoned in the first place. “Also, if you could shelve your hormones long enough to finish filming, Dawson would appreciate it.”

Joey was out the door fast enough she only caught the, “Audrey, I'm—” of Pacey's response, but her cruel and fertile imagination provided a hundred endings to it as she walked aimlessly back down the hall.

_Audrey, I'm head over heels in love with you._

_Audrey, I'm willing to see you through this love scene, so long as I get the real thing later._

_Audrey, I'm going to bend you over the sink and take you right now._

“Potter, wait up! Potter!” Pacey grabbed her arms and forcibly turned her to face him.

“What do you want, Pacey?” She was wretchedly aware of the streams of tears on her cheeks. She broke away from Pacey's hold and wiped them away.

“I want—I want to talk to you.” He grabbed her hand and led her outside.

The bitter winter air was a relief, a reasonable excuse for the stinging in her eyes and on her face.

“I'm sorry, Jo,” Pacey said as soon as the door shut behind them. “For Audrey. We were rehearsing, and it just happened. It will never happen again.”

“You can't promise that. I've heard her talk about you, and I've seen you look at her. There are feelings there, Pacey.”

“Maybe,” Pacey admitted. “But not deep ones. I already told her it isn't going to happen. She'll curse me out for a few days, then find a new crush.”

Joey frowned and shook her head. He was making another of his stupid, noble gestures. For her sake. “And you? Will you just get over it?”

“The only thing I won't get over is the look on your face when Audrey told you.” He cupped her face in his hand, his warmth contrasted with the air's cold made her cheeks tingle. “I never wanted to hurt you like that. Honestly, I didn't dream that I _could_ still hurt you.”

She yanked away from his touch. The returned breeze was a slap in the face. “Right. Because you got on a boat last summer, and I suddenly caught the heart version of amnesia.”

Pacey groaned and rubbed a hand over his face. “I don't know what you expect of me, Jo. We broke up. Badly, and then less badly. You've been seeing other people, and so have I. I know I stepped over the line with your roommate. I just wanna know why it's upset you this much.”

Something about the frustration in his face when he said that, and Joey was back at the side of a road a year and a half ago. Back when she was purposely dense, and he was incredibly brave.

She summoned up every ounce of courage she'd ever had, grabbed Pacey's face in both hands, and kissed him. Warmth suffused her from the first touch of his lips on hers. Realistically, it was body heat fighting the cold. But to Joey, it felt like her heart was seeping back into her chest. She'd thought it was gone all these months, thrown away like yesterday's trash, but Pacey had it all along, keeping it safe for her right alongside his. 

Pacey kissed her back, hesitantly at first, then ferociously. A starving man brought before a king's banquet.

“I'm having the weirdest sense of _deja vu_.” An amused voice interrupted the frantic kiss. 

Joey would have stepped away, but Pacey kept his arms locked around her waist.

Jen Lindley grinned impishly at them from the doorway. “I want details later. Many details, and possibly a timeline as to how this happened. But for now, I need you two to clear the lovefest from the walkway, as we've finished the scene—finally—and will be moving out the equipment to shoot the finale.”

Pacey let go of Joey in order to help Jen prop open the double doors, then went inside to help with transport.

“What?” Joey demanded in response to Jen's Cheshire cat smile.

“Nothing.” Jen walked by Joey's side back to the erstwhile film set, sneaking glances up at her friend. “It's just...you look happy. And as Pacey told me when he found out about me and Dawson, we could all use a little more happiness.”

Joey flushed. The first set of lights being carried out forced her and Jen to the side of the hallway and kept her from having to reply.

“God, wouldn't that be the weirdest thing?”

“What?” Joey asked.

“If you, me, Pacey and Dawson all managed to be happy at the exact same moment in time.”

Despite herself, Joey laughed. “I'm pretty sure the universe would implode.”

“Sign of the Apocalypse, for sure.”

“You don't believe in the Apocalypse.”

“If these relationships work out? I'll have to re-examine my stance on a lot of things I've spent my life not believing.”

*~*~*

For Dawson's and Jen's sake, and because things with Pacey were unresolved, Joey stayed and watched the filming of the finale, even though the air felt about twenty below zero and the studied way Audrey was avoiding both Pacey and Joey made it obvious how unwelcome their presence was to her.

Joey felt bad that Audrey was hurting, but she hoped Pacey was right and it would pass quickly. Audrey's crush might be intense, but it was a recent development, whereas Joey was starting to believe her feelings for Pace would never fade.

Pacey—being the tallest of Dawson's slapdash crew—was in charge of the boom mic. While all his animosity towards Charlie was on the back burner now, he did get yelled at once or twice for letting the boom fall into frame. Those were the times he caught Joey staring at him and stared right back.

After the second time she got Pacey in trouble, Joey tried harder to focus on the end of Dawson's movie. There had been a last minute rewrite which had changed the ending from a tragedy to something more hopeful. Typical Dawson. Joey couldn't see much of a future for a relationship that had nearly ended in homicide, but she wasn't in the mood tonight to quarrel with a happy ending. Her congratulations to Dawson on the wrap were completely sincere.

Pacey sneaked up behind her while she was saying goodnight to Dawson and Jen. His hand resting on her lower back felt wonderfully familiar. “Can we go somewhere and talk?” he whispered in her ear.

Joey nodded, her insides tying themselves in knots. What if he wanted to let her down gently? What if he thought the kiss was a mistake? Either way, they were going to have to talk. Whether her heart was going to shatter again or their happiness was going to presage the end of the world, better to have it over with sooner than later.

Pacey took her hand—a most encouraging sign, even if her fingers were too numb from cold to feel it—and led her toward his car. Joey saw Audrey as they passed, making a big show of flirting with Charlie. She hoped her roommate wouldn't do something she'd regret, but Joey was the last person Audrey would want advice from right now. She passed by without a word.

Pacey unlocked and opened her door first. He gave her a hand so she could slide in without dragging her skirt in the snow. Everything about the moment felt right, a ritual for which they'd never quite lost the habit.

He went around to the driver's side and started the car, but didn't immediately start driving, as he waited for the windshield to defog. They both pulled off their gloves and held stiff fingers to the dashboard heaters.

“Any chance Dawson's next feature could take place someplace more hospitable, like, say, Brazil?”

Joey grinned. “An excellent notion, Mr. Witter. You should leave it in his suggestion box.”

Pacey smiled back at her. His eyes drifted to her lips, before he forced his gaze straight ahead. “So where to? If you're hungry, I know a few decent places that are still open. Or I could fix you something at Civilization if you want. Up to you.”

Joey heard the unspoken question in those options. Alone or a crowd? “Civilization sounds good,” she said, fighting the nervous fluttering of her stomach. “Especially if you've got any chocolate cake laying around.”

“Not at the moment, but I'll see what I've got to satisfy that sweet tooth of yours, Potter.”

*~*~*

What Pacey had wasn't nearly as dirty as his promise sounded in the car. Pecan praline cheesecake, the evening's specialty dessert. 

“I haven't convinced Danny to give me the recipe yet.” Pacey handed Joey a fork, then took the bar stool next to hers and opened the box. “But I'm working on it.”

There was a little less than a quarter pie left. Pacey ignored plates in favor of sharing the box with her, which suited Joey fine. She moaned when the first rich, nutty, sweet flavor crossed her tongue. When her eyes fluttered back open, Pacey was watching her with a decidedly hungry look.

He wet his lips with the tip of his tongue. She watched, fascinated in her turn. “Like it?”

“Uh-huh.” Joey made herself look away from him and took another bite.

Pacey took one as well. “The man's an ass, but he sure can cook.”

“Are you thinking that's what you'd like to do, too, Pace?”

“Not sure yet. For now, I enjoy it, it pays the bills—kind of—and it keeps me in Boston.”

Joey remembered the gut-wrenching fear of a few weeks ago when Audrey announced Pacey was thinking about leaving on another boat. Even his decision to stay hadn't calmed her much. There were always more ships. “And this is where you want to be? Boston?”

“It's where you are, so yes.”

Her eyes stumbled up into his. What she saw looking back at her knocked the air from her lungs. “But you never said! All these months, not a word, not a touch. Imagining you with other women, watching you flirt with my roommate. You should have said!”

“Said what? That as you were so happy now, the screw-up who nearly ruined your life last year wanted the chance to do it again?”

“Who said I was happy?”

“No one had to say it, Jo. I can see it every time I look at you. You're thriving here, at Worthington. It's where you were always meant to be, and I didn't come back to take that away from you, or to drag you back down to my level. But I decided weeks ago that to be near you, just to be in the periphery of your life, was enough for me. Then, tonight, you kissed me, and I don't know what to think anymore.”

Joey shook her head. “Boy, have we had our signals crossed. When you left...Pace, it was like someone had ripped out half my insides. It hurt like hell, but I trained myself to function without them. You say I'm happy, but if that's true, it's intellectual stimulation, not emotional satisfaction. I only started feeling again when you came back. But I've been so confused. I thought you were over me, that you just wanted to be friends.”

“So what exactly are you saying here, Jo? Do you want to try again?”

“Honestly? That thought terrifies me. Because everything could go wrong again. You could leave; I would have to pick up the pieces all over again. But the months of willing myself into not being in love with you has done zilch to make that a reality.”

“I didn't even try for that impossibility. I just told myself a broken heart wasn't going to kill me and to focus on the other things in life.”

“Like bedding other women?” Joey hated herself for asking the question, but if she didn't, it would hang over her head, poisoning their new chance.

“I'm not perfect, Jo, and I'm not a monk. I slept with other women, and I cared about them, too. But I know my heart, and it's never left you. As far as I can see, it's not going to anytime soon.”

Joey's breath caught. She said those words to him a lifetime ago, aboard the _True Love_. She wasn't used to Pacey parroting her words back at her; she did it to him often, because Pacey was brilliant at expressing the way he felt. But to know that he had held onto something she'd said, that he'd written her words on his heart, meant the world to her.

She kissed him. She'd been wanting to since the moment Jen interrupted them and couldn't think of a single reason to delay any longer. Her mouth reclaimed the familiar territory of his lips, while her fingers lost themselves in the swirls of hair behind his ears. Her thumbs marked the beloved lines of his face.

Pacey allowed her explorations and made a few of his own. His hands traced a path along her jaw, down her throat, skimming her collarbone, before circling round to trail her shoulder blades and every notch of her spine. Her nerve endings shot to life everywhere his fingers brushed. 

As Pacey's mouth left hers to investigate the thrum of the pulse in her neck, his hands slipped under her ass and pulled, sending Joey stumbling off the bar stool and into the open V of his legs. Her hands flew high on his thighs to catch herself at the same moment Pacey nibbled ever so gently at the juncture where jaw met throat.

Joey made a sound somewhere between a squeal and a laugh. “Very clever, Pace. When did you pick up that move?”

Pacey pulled away to grin roguishly at her. “Thought it up on the spot. You know I was never one for studying.” He kissed the tip of her nose, pushing the heels of his feet against the back of her calves to coax her even further into the circle of his body.

Joey was aware of his arousal, hovering inches from her fingers. She felt her nipples tighten, and, with the scrape of Pacey's teeth and tongue against her sternum, she experienced the rush of wetness that meant her body was ready for this, even if her mind was divided. 

But Joey had never let her hormones rule her head, and she didn't intend to start now. “Pacey, wait.” She pushed gently against his shoulders, freeing her body from the tempting trap of his.

Pacey's hair was tousled, his lips kiss-swollen, pupils blown wide from want. But he stopped at a word from her. “Second thoughts, Jo?” He looked like a puppy bracing itself for an expected smack.

“No.” She couldn't bear the expression on his face and kissed him thoroughly. “No. But earlier today, you were kissing my roommate, and I was flirting with my lit. professor. It seems wise to slow this down a bit. We don't need to rush, do we?”

“Of course not, it's just, when I'm around you...” He took her hand in his, brushing his rough thumb along the smooth skin of her wrist. He watched the movement as though in awe. “Since I've been back, I've barely let myself touch you, because every time I did, I didn't want to let go. To suddenly be allowed to feel you again...I got carried away. I'm sorry, Jo.”

“You weren't the only one,” Joey reminded him, kissing the top of his head. “But I'd like it if we could slow down a little.”

“Not nine months slow, though, right, Potter?” Pacey grimaced. “I mean, I'd wait. I wouldn't like it, I'd rather not, but I would wait.”

Joey laughed. “Not nine months, I promise. But...but you should probably get tested first.” Her whole face was glowing red, she knew it. The thought had to be voiced, though; the specter of those six months apart, those faceless women in Pacey's bed. She could do nothing about the fear of another woman's pregnancy test, but she could protect herself from the consequences of Pacey's reckless behavior.

To her surprise, Pacey agreed without protest. “Good idea, Jo. I was always safe, but you can never be too careful. You should get tested, too.”

“Me!? Why the hell do I need testing?”

“Seriously? After you let that walking STD into your bed?”

For one confused moment, Joey had no idea what Pacey was talking about. Then she figured it out and rolled her eyes. “Who, Charlie? I didn't sleep with Charlie. Or Professor Wilder. Or Dawson. Let me put it this way, Pacey: if you're clean, so am I.”

Pacey looked hopeful but wary, as though the gift she had given him might yet contain an explosive device. “It's okay if you did, Jo. I won't judge—can't really without being a hypocritical asshole—and I'd rather you told me the truth.”

His last words stopped her flat. Joey did have a truth she could tell Pacey and hope he'd find it as easy to forgive as sleeping with another man. Joey knew she could trust Pacey and his love for her; she even believed he would forgive her, in time. But she worried it would start another downward spiral for Pacey, one of shame and guilt and blame and a hundred other emotions he didn't deserve.

Joey had fought through them all herself, and it was only now that she was emerging out the other side. She wouldn't inflict the same pain on Pacey. She took a deep breath and, with the exhale, let it all go, all the secrets and lies, recriminations and regrets, the entire spotted past. They were starting over.

“No lie, Pace. There's never been anyone but you. No one else was worth the risk.”

*~*~*

Joey and Pacey stayed up all night together, just talking—and touching and, okay, some light groping—catching up on all the pieces of their lives they'd missed over the past few months. She had an early morning philosophy class, and he had work, but they parted with kisses and a promise to call later.

Between a night with Pacey and a morning with Pascal's wager, Joey had forgotten about Audrey. Until she stepped into her dorm room and found the normally effervescent blonde looking wild and unkempt, with red-rimmed eyes and the reek of whiskey in the air.

“Audrey, I—”

“Save it, Joey. You know the part that kills me? One word, that's all it would have taken. A little word, too, like _don't_ , maybe, or _mine_.”

“I didn't—”

“My turn to talk now. You had your chance. Months of chances. All that time I spent, opening up to you, thinking you were opening up to me. Imagining that we were friends. But everything you ever said to me is a lie.”

“That's not true.”

“Really? So Dawson is your soulmate, then, and Pacey's just some guy you used to date, and you ruined my chances with him to prove you could.” Audrey fumbled her way to her feet. There was something ugly about her pretty face, maybe it was the sneer that twisted her full lips. “So which is it, Joey? Are you a bald-faced liar or a selfish bitch? Because I don't see any other options here, do you?”

“I'm sorry, Audrey. I couldn't tell you about Pacey, because I couldn't talk to _anyone_ about Pacey. It hurt too much. But I never meant for you to get hurt, never dreamed you'd be caught in the middle.”

Audrey snorted, then sank to the floor by her bed, among a mess of twisted, discarded blankets. “I don't want you to think this is about him. I don't give a rat's ass about Pacey Witter. He's just some dickhead I made out with once. This is about you and me, and what it means to be friends.”

Joey sat down next to her, leaning back against Audrey's bed. “I know. I screwed up, Audrey. I'm actually pretty prone to screwing up, whatever you might think. And I _am_ sorry, because I do want to be your friend. I'm just not very good at it. Ask Jen, if you don't believe me.”

“That is the worst apology I've ever heard from someone who doesn't have a penis.” But Audrey laid her head down in Joey's lap and passed out.

Joey stroked her roommate's hair, as her own eyes started to close. Her last thought before losing consciousness was, _we're going to be okay_.

*~*~*

Joey's insistence on abstinence didn't last anywhere near nine months. It barely survived Pacey's clean bill of health. She knew full well that, between the sumptuous food Pacey kept feeding her, the light in his eyes when he looked at her, and the way her body sang when he touched her, the only reason it lasted as long as it did was the lack of a space of their own.

But it seemed cruel to bar Audrey from her dorm room. And as long as Pacey was bunking on Mrs. Ryan's sofa, there was no privacy to be found.

When Pacey inherited his old boss Danny's apartment, the first thing he did was invite Joey over for another home-cooked meal. The first thing Joey did when she arrived was push him down on the bed. Pacey teased her about their dinner spoiling from her impatience, she pointed out it had been a lot longer for her than for him, and he spent the next several hours making up for it.

So began a period of coital bliss, uninterrupted by any need to pee on a stick. Joey had never been happier. Despite Jen's fears—and her own—the world did not end.

~*~*~

**II.**

Joey spent Valentine's Day that year alone, drowning her sorrows in a pint of cookie dough ice cream. Until Audrey's night went bust, as well. Then they both drowned in a pint of schnapps. 

But Pacey was back by Easter, tanned, relaxed, and as in love with her as ever.

Outwardly, things returned to their established patterns. Inwardly, Joey was putting up walls. Dawson was right. She was living on borrowed time. Pacey was going to leave again someday, probably soon, and he was going to keep leaving until the time he didn't come home.

Joey refused to shatter when that day came.

~*~

**I.**

The rest of the year flew by. Joey wanted to cherish every moment of Andersen's infancy, but every time she looked at him, he was bigger.

Despite her exhaustion, Joey managed all A's her first semester and was on track to do the same her second. When Anders was four months old, she got a job, waitressing at a local bar. She hated it, but the money was necessary as Pacey was forced to quit his job at Civilization.

Danny sold the restaurant to some corporate entity. The witch they brought in to manage the place started harassing Pacey, so he quit on the spot. Joey was proud of him for it, but it also saddened her. Pacey had loved working there. He was still working security and picked up odd jobs at the docks, but those were just ways to pay the bills. She encouraged him to look for another restaurant; he loved cooking, and he was good at it.

In the meantime, it was Joey's turn to contribute something to the family coffers.

Jack had fallen into some sort of tailspin over the frat thing, and Joey spent some of her precious free time helping to pull him out of the academic gutter. Apart from worry for Jack, Jen was almost ridiculously happy. She was thriving at school, enjoying her radio gig, getting along better than ever with Grams, and reveling in her self-assigned godmother duties.

Dawson surprised everyone by transferring to a Boston film school for the spring semester. But he surprised absolutely no one when he announced that he and Gretchen were dating again.

After waiting so long to get married, Bessie and Bodie had a quick engagement. Engaged at Thanksgiving, married at New Year's. Joey played bridesmaid for the second time, her dress this time a disturbing shade of yellowish-green which Pacey dubbed “puker.” The ceremony was beautiful, despite Joey's misgivings, but three months of newlywed bliss was not long enough to change Joey's mind on marriage.

~*~

Joey came home from work, dead on her feet. Two morning finals, followed by eight hours at the bar. She was met by the delicious scents of tomato and basil the moment she opened the door. Pacey had been cooking again.

Even as the smells made her stomach rumble, she found herself missing him. Between him working nights at the marina and mornings at the dock, and her school and work shifts, she'd barely seen him this past week. Pacey had, on Bodie's recommendation, lined up a junior cook position that started next month. The pay was good enough that Joey hoped he'd be persuaded to give up one of his other jobs. 

“Good evening, Josephine,” Mrs. Ryan greeted her, putting down her book. “We saved a plate from dinner for you.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Ryan. How's Anders?”

“His father took him upstairs to bed an hour ago.”

“Pacey's home?”

“Yes, he has the night off.”

“Night, Mrs. Ryan.” Joey kicked off her shoes and took the steps two at a time.

“You really should eat first, dear,” Grams called up after her.

Joey knew better than to barrel up the stairs and risk waking the baby. So she tiptoed up to their attic apartment and peeked over the railing. Her heart staged a complete revolution at the sight in front of her. Dirty piles of laundry and discarded burp-rags on the floor. A half-empty bottle of milk on the nightstand. And Pacey asleep in the rocking chair, Andersen equally unconscious against his shoulder, the book for which their son had been named fallen open on the floor in front of them.

Silently, Joey crossed the room and picked up the book, restoring it to its rightful place on her dresser. Then she gently separated son from father, cradling the sleeping baby as she carried him to his crib and settled him down.

Pacey stirred behind her. She turned and caught him rubbing his eyes. “Hey, Jo.” He smiled sleepily at her. “Just get home?”

“Yeah, don't get up.” She hurried back to him and down into his lap before he could stand. She kissed his forehead, the tip of his nose, his mouth. “Hey, Pace?”

“Hmm?”

“Marry me.”

His blue eyes shot wide, all the sleep knocked out of them in a second. “What? What did I miss? Aren't you scared?”

“Terrified,” Joey admitted, before kissing him again. “But I've been scared at all the best moments of my life with you. The first time you kissed me. The first time _I_ kissed _you_. When I told you I loved you, and when we sailed away from Capeside. I was terrified the first time we made love, and when I decided to keep the baby, and the night Andersen was born. And right at this moment, I am so happy and so much in love with you that the only thing I can think to do is jump down into the foxhole and hope we survive it.”

“Jo—”

Tenderly, she kissed him once more then whispered in his ear, “Marry me, sweetheart.”

When Pacey kissed her, she didn't know if the tears on her cheek were hers or his.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize profusely for the delay. Before posting this chapter, I realized the back half of this fic needed a complete overhaul, but I was in the middle of Nanowrimo and couldn't even really get back to it until after the Christmas holidays. It has ballooned since January, with an additional two parts and 30,000 words. I'm still unsatisfied with some parts, but if I work on it anymore, it's going to drive me mad. Thus, again, calling it finished, and hoping that's for real this time. Sorry again.

**I.**

Joey awoke in a panic, remembering the night before, what she had asked. 

Pacey's side of the bed was empty. He was already at work. But a note stuck to his pillow read, _Second thoughts yet, Potter?_

Joey read it, laughed, and shook her head.

~*~

When Pacey started work at his new restaurant, The Main Event, he quit the marina job. He and Joey both arranged to have Wednesdays off, so they would have one day a week for their family.

One warm Wednesday in June, they were walking Andersen's stroller around the park when Pacey broached the subject for the first time.

“So is this going to be one of those ten-year engagements where we never actually get married? 'Cause gotta tell you, Potter, between the not telling anyone and not talking about it with you, being engaged doesn't feel any different from how it was before. Not that there was anything wrong with the way it was before. I'm a happy man, Jo, the happiest. It's just—”

“Pacey, shut up. You're doing that rambling thing again. It's annoying.”

“See, it's only annoying you because the topic is marriage. Usually, you find it charming.” He gave her his best shit-eating grin. 

Joey couldn't stop herself from laughing. “Okay, you win. I've been freaking out. But it's no good talking about it yet, because Jen is with her parents this summer, and she would kill us if we did this without her.”

“All the more reason to start talking about it now. Get you used to the idea while there's no pressure.”

Joey was saved from having to answer by Andersen dropping his bottle and starting to cry.

~*~

Two weeks later, while they were lying awake in the sweltering, un-air-conditioned attic, Joey told Pacey, “I want a small wedding. Tiny. Minuscule.”

Pacey grinned at her, clearly thrilled she brought up the subject of her own volition. “Tiny as in Bessie's backyard and only blood relations, or tiny as in no one finds the license until we're both death of carbon monoxide poisoning?”

“You used that example because that's the only way you don't die before me,” Joey muttered. Sweat pooled at the back of her neck and made her miserable. “How about tiny as in two witnesses and a justice of the peace when we pick up our license?”

“Okay. Jen has to be one, and the other...” Pacey let the name hang unsaid in the air between them, before adding quietly, “Unless you plan on no rings either, he'll find out eventually, Jo.”

Joey sighed. “I know. And it's not that. Truly, it's not. Dawson seems happy with your sister. We're all good with each other. I just...”

Pacey rolled over on the sticky mattress and faced her. “Just what, Jo?”

She mirrored his position. “I don't want that day to be about him. I know he'll be hurt if we don't ask him, but that's how I feel.”

“If it wasn't so hot, I'd be kissing you senseless right about now.”

“If it wasn't so hot, I'd let you.”

~*~*~

**II.**

Joey spent the summer break after her freshman year of college back in Capeside, helping Bessie with the B&B and working at the yacht club. Pacey, still in Boston, tried to convince her to stay with him and work in the city. Joey had resisted. Her attempts to achieve emotional independence would collapse under that kind of intimacy.

In other words, it was easier trying to fall out of love with him at a distance. Easier, but not actually possible. Joey tried to prepare herself by imagining the various ways they could end—bitter, explosive fights where he blamed her for holding him back; phone calls from foreign ports where he stumbled his way into telling her he'd met someone new; mornings where he slipped out of her bed and her life without a word. Once, she imagined him dead in a shipwreck, but that brought on memories of the night the _True Love_ sank and the overwhelming dread it inspired.

But every weekend, there was Pacey, squiring her around to Capeside's few places of interest or lounging beside her on the beach. Loving her and being lovable and destroying in moments the work of a week.

The dichotomy made Joey snappish. She picked fights for no reason, and Pacey knew it, called her on it. He tried to get her to confide in him, but she couldn't tell him. He would dismiss her fears as irrational, she knew; he would assure her that he was hers for keeps. He might even make her believe him, and then she would be doubly broken when he left.

One night in August, they sat on the dock in front of her house. There had been another knock-down, drag-out earlier in the day. Though Joey had apologized, she could feel the tension in the arm Pacey wrapped around her shoulders.

“Do you want to be rid of me, Jo?”

Joey pulled away in horror at Pacey's soft question. “What!? How could you think that? No!”

“I'm not making you happy any more.”

“Don't say that. Don't even think that.” She kissed him fiercely. The day she lost him might be nearing, but Joey was determined to put it off as long as possible. “I know I've been moody. I wish I could explain why. But it's not you, Pace. I'll always want you.”

“Good to know. 'Cause I'm always going to be yours,” he whispered into her hair.

*~*~*

**III.**

Summer brought the dispersal of their little gang. Dawson and Jen had broken up for some indecipherable reason, so he was off to L.A. with his Audrey-starring movie—and Audrey herself, who was going home, much against her will—while Jen went on vacation with her awful parents. Jack stayed in Boston. Joey and Pacey headed back to Capeside.

Joey wasn't looking forward to another Capeside summer, which lived in her memory as insufferably hot and endlessly tedious, but it turned out to be one of the best summers of her life. She got her old job at the yacht club back; Pacey picked up one working security at the marina. But he spent so much time in the club's kitchen visiting Joey and pestering Michel, the chef, for recipes and techniques that eventually Michel hired him on as an assistant cook.

Few of Joey's golden memories originated at work, however. Watching Alex and Lily play at the park while having heart-to-hearts with Bessie and Gail. Days escaping the heat with Pacey at the beach, and nights lying outside beside him counting stars. The Fourth of July picnic when Dawson flew back and Jack drove down and all four of them got just the right amount of drunk, so the whole evening was a hazy, happy blur. The weekend Pacey took her to Boston for a gallery opening, and the one where Jen invited her to New York for all the sight-seeing she missed during their last trip. Waking to the smell of bacon and the sight of Pacey helping Bodie fix breakfast at the B&B.

All in all, Joey was a touch regretful to reach summer's end, though this was soon subsumed in excitement over her new classes and joy in seeing all her friends again. Michel recommended Pacey to a position at a new restaurant and had him seriously thinking about culinary school, if he could arrange the financing. 

Dawson's movie hadn't brought him the instant fame he desired, so he was back in Boston for another year of film school. He returned with an actress girlfriend in tow. Jen immediately hated her; Joey did, too, for less personal reasons. Pacey, Dawson, and Jack leased an apartment together, which they fondly dubbed “Capeside House.” Joey and Jen, less picturesquely, but more accurately, called it “the Pit.”

Audrey returned from L.A. an emotional and physical wreck. Her parental trauma, combined with a summer of booze, drugs, and men, had turned the party girl into a ticking timebomb.

Joey's birthday arrived shortly after the start of the fall semester. Dawson was the only one of her friends to mention it, and he insisted on taking her out to dinner.

“I find this mass silence on the subject troubling,” Joey told him, scowling. “Either you are my only true friend, or there's a surprise party in the works. Given how well those have played out for us in the past, it's about time we declared a moratorium on them, don't you think?”

Dawson smirked. “I can neither confirm nor deny the existence of said party. Open your present.”

Dawson gave her a Hollywood snowglobe, the kind he could pick up in any airport giftshop. Not the most personal gift Joey had ever received, but a nice memento of her friend, and her thanks were sincere.

Joey wasn't unduly surprised to be showered with confetti when she entered her dorm room, but Pacey's two red party hats affixed like devil's horns made her laugh. So did Audrey's gift, a ridiculous, fuzzy, blue pillow to match Audrey's atrocious pink one. But Pacey's present—a beaded necklace that echoed her mother's bracelet—made her cry.

“That wasn't too awful, was it?” Pacey prompted as he slid into Joey's narrow dorm bed beside her hours later. The others had all left, even Audrey, who was spending the night at Jen's. “Nobody made a scene, nobody threw up. By Capeside standards, a rousing success.”

“Remind me of that while I'm cleaning confetti off my stuff for the next month.” But Joey snuggled in close, rubbing her forehead against his nose. “It was perfect, Pace. Thank you.”

“I live to please. Speaking of which, what shall it be for the birthday girl, _Little Women_ or _Room With a View_?”

Joey grabbed the hand with which Pacey was reaching for her nightstand books, the movement drawing her across his body. “You. Just you.”

Pacey grinned up at her. “You're getting forward in your old age, Miss Potter, but, as I said, I live to please.”

~*~

**I.**

“How 'bout Doug?” Pacey asked as he strode up the stairs one day in September.

Joey had spent the afternoon trying to balance her first school assignments of the year with keeping Anders from pulling everything out of the drawers of her desk. “What about Doug?”

“For the second witness.”

Joey blinked blankly at him.

“Best man. Our wedding.”

“Oh, Pacey, I can't think about that right now. I've got two more essays and thirty trig problems due tomorrow, and Anders is—”

“On his way to the park with Daddy,” cut in Pacey, scooping up the infant and tossing him in the air. Joey hated when Pacey did that, but Anders squealed, delighted. “But first, agree with me that Doug makes sense for second witness. I mean, Dawson can't be hurt, which he would be if we picked another friend like Jack, and I know you like Dougie because you made me name my kid after him.”

Joey sighed. “Give me space and silence for the next three hours, and you can have Charles Manson stand up with you for all I care.”

Pacey placed a soft kiss on her forehead and headed toward the stairs, baby in arms. “I'll take that as a yes.”

~*~*~

**II.**

During her second year at Worthington, Joey needed to find a job. Her finances demanded it, and it would be one more way to carve out her own life, separate from Pacey.

The literature professor with an opening for a research assistant was a dickhead, so she went for yet another waitress position, this time at a bar called Hell's Kitchen. Despite the name, it wasn't a rough joint. Joey liked most of her co-workers—a big step-up from the yacht club—especially the British girl, Emma. The only downside was a tall, brooding bartender named Eddie.

“He's an asshole,” was her succinct summation of him to Pacey after their first meeting.

Eddie, who happened to be teacher's pet in her lit. class, criticized everything in Joey's life, from her schoolwork, to her friends, to the way she waited tables. He drove her crazy, and Audrey's repeated remarks about how hot he was only furthered Joey's irritation.

But Eddie had unexpected depths. He attended classes at a school in which he wasn't enrolled, because he couldn't afford it. He defended Joey to the dickhead professor. He wrote the most beautiful collection of short stories she'd ever read.

One night, as they were closing up the bar, he kissed her. The rush of excitement she felt surprised her, and Joey kissed him back before her brain kicked in, and she pushed him away.

“What are you doing?” she spluttered. “I have a boyfriend!”

“For now.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

Eddie shrugged. “I've watched you when he comes in here. You hold yourself away; you're immediately tense. You're getting ready to end it.”

“That's not— _I'm_ not the...I love Pacey. We're fine.”

“My mistake then.” Eddie wiped down the bar like nothing had happened.

Joey went to Pacey's boat—a different one this year, but still a boat—and let herself in. He was already asleep, and she stood for long minutes watching him in the dim light from the porthole. She took in his hair, sticking every which way on the pillow, the soft flutter of his eyelashes on his cheek, the way his arm fell across the bed, over the place where she should be.

Eddie was wrong, she decided with relief. She loved Pacey as much as ever. What Eddie saw was only the reflected fear of Pacey leaving her.

Content with her reasoning, Joey slid into bed at Pacey's side. He woke just long enough to nuzzle her neck and wrap around her body. Joey fell asleep to the sound of his breath in her ear.

She didn't tell him about the kiss.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey took up running in the mornings. It was her “me” time. She got very good at it.

She chopped her hair off right below the chin. It wasn't a style choice. Andersen had grabby little fingers and a firm grip. 

She picked education as a major. She didn't love it as much as some of the fine arts, but it seemed more practical. Practicality was the rule of law in Joey's life these days.

The summer after her freshman year, she spent in Boston. Jen was away with her parents, but Mrs. Ryan and Jack remained. Between them, they were able to cover baby-sitting while Joey took a few courses and went to work at a local bar and grill.

Joey flirted shamelessly with the bartender Eddie. She even surprised herself by going to bed with him one night. The sex was good, a release she hadn't had in months and desperately needed. But she missed a test the next day, and Andersen suffered a bout of colic while she was gone. The whole affair served as confirmation that her life was too full for romantic entanglements.

Bessie forwarded her Capeside mail. It mostly consisted of the stacks of postcards from Pacey. Joey barely glanced at them anymore, just dumped them in the shoebox under her bed. Andersen might want them someday.

~*~

**I.**

Anders celebrated his first birthday. The red velvet cake Pacey baked was far too fancy for being smashed into bits by clumsy fingers. Mrs. Ryan's house was stuffed full of friends and family and way too many presents for a baby who just wanted to play with the wrapping paper.

“So when's the next adorable little brat coming?” asked the always-inappropriate Audrey.

“God. Not until school's done, at least,” Joey said with a roll of her eyes.

“And when's the wedding?” Mrs. Ryan asked pointedly.

Joeys' favorite thing about her secret engagement was not giving Grams gloating rights. She caught Pacey's eye over Anders' head. He raised his eyebrows, seconding the question. Joey shrugged.

*~*~*

**III.**

Joey's professors were meaner her sophomore year, her course load heavier, and Audrey continued her downward spiral. Joey got a job as waitress at Pacey's new restaurant and was glad she did; between her studies and his long work hours, they might never have seen each other. She took to spending more nights at the Pit than in her dorm. It wasn't only the lure of Pacey which drew her there. Audrey's behavior had reached a point where Joey, unable to help her or get her roommate to talk about it, found it impossible to be around her. Especially while trying to study.

Joey's birthday was the last time all of her friends were in the same room together for months. Jen and Dawson were avoiding each other. He continued to keep company with Natasha, the C-list celebrity, while Jen started dating a gorgeous and personality-deficient guy she met volunteering for a crisis line.

Right before Thanksgiving break, Jen made an extraordinary gift to the group. Tickets to a No Doubt concert for all, even Dawson and his girlfriend. Joey was so excited that Pacey had ample material for teasing her over the days and hours leading up to the event. 

But Audrey showed up late and drunk—again—and greeted Jen by proclaiming, “Jen, sweetie, it's so nice of you to invite me, even after I fucked your boyfriend.”

Jen went preternaturally still, then said, “Excuse me,” and made her way out of the crowd without a look back at C.J.

“Jen, wait—” C.J. made a halfhearted attempt to follow her.

Pacey stepped in his way, splayed hand pushed against the other man's chest. “Pretty sure you've done enough.”

“Pace,” Joey warned. This wasn't their fight.

“For God's sake!” Dawson snarled and took off after Jen.

Natasha stood there, hands on hips, and shook her head as he abandoned her to comfort his ex. “Figures.”

With a little more prompting from Joey, Pacey released C.J., who left, possibly to find Jen, possibly fleeing from her angry friends. Audrey dropped into her seat and a drunken stupor, heedless of the havoc she'd caused. Joey tried to enjoy what was left of the concert. Jen, Dawson, and C.J. never reappeared. Joey wished Jen had returned. Screaming the lyrics to “Ex-girlfriend” would have been therapeutic for her.

Joey and Pacey took Audrey back to the dorms with them, while Jack and his boyfriend David offered to drive Natasha wherever she needed to go.

“The airport sounds about right,” she said coolly.

Pacey and Joey half-walked, half-carried Audrey out to Pacey's car. “This can't last, Jo,” Pacey said after unloading their unconscious friend into the back seat. “Something has to break.”

What broke was Pacey's car and Dawson's house.

It was Christmas. Pacey and Joey and a tentatively reunited Dawson and Jen all returned to Capeside for the holiday. Audrey was a last-minute addition, after she missed her own flight home. Joey had a bad feeling about it from the start, but she couldn't let her friend spend Christmas alone. 

And Joey had her own problems. Her father was out of prison again and spending his first Christmas in years with the family. It was also his introduction to Pacey as her boyfriend. 

“Pacey Witter? The sheriff's son?” was Mike Potter's first, incredulous response, followed immediately by, “What about Dawson?”

“That ended when he made me send you to prison,” Joey snapped without thinking.

Her father's face clouded. “I deserved to go to prison, Joey. I'm a criminal. And I would hate to think I was what stopped you from being with someone you loved.”

“I love Pacey. Dawson and I wouldn't have lasted, with or without you. We work better as friends, always have. But Pacey...I hope you'll make an effort to like him, Dad, because if you want to be in my life, he's a non-negotiable part of it.”

Her dad did try, and Pacey pulled out all the stops charming him. Joey's Christmas might have gone surprisingly well, if Audrey hadn't turned up drunk and stoned to the Leery Christmas dinner. When Dawson suggested she sleep it off, Audrey faced them down with a succinct, “Fuck you all,” and headed out the door.

“I'd better go after her.” Joey rose reluctantly from the table.

Pacey jumped up as well. “I'll get our co—”

That was the moment Audrey drove Pacey's Mustang through Dawson's living room wall. 

Doug was a fellow dinner guest, so there was no hiding what had happened from the law. He checked Audrey over for critical injuries; she was only scraped and bruised. He called an ambulance then placed a groggy, disoriented Audrey under arrest.

Joey tugged on Pacey's sweater. “Can't you do something?”

Pacey's face was stony. “Convince Deputy Do-right to ignore the law? Please. Even if I could, I wouldn't. If you had been ten feet closer to the door, she would have hit more than just the house.” He wrapped his arms around Joey's waist and pulled her close. “Maybe it's for the best, Jo. She'll get the help she needs now.”

Joey rested her head against his shoulder, using Pacey's presence to block out both the cold and the sorrow. “I just feel like such a failure as a friend. I should have found some way to stop it before she reached this point.”

“You can't save someone who won't let you. Take it from someone who's been on both sides of that equation.” He laid a gentle kiss on her brow. “Come on. You can help Gail pack Lily's things, while Dawson and I winter-proof their new floor-to-ceiling window.”

“In other words, womenfolk inside with the little 'uns, while the big, strong men safeguard the homestead.” She swatted his stomach.

“Oof,” Pacey said, with an exaggerated display of pain. “Hey, if you want to brave the twenty degrees and wind chill factor, be my guest. I'm more than happy to cuddle a baby in the heated nursery.”

“It's hard to argue when you put it like that.”

Pacey shot her a confident smile as he headed outside. “That's the idea.”

Audrey's father had a Boston lawyer for her the next day. He arranged for the Liddells to cover the cost of repairs to the Leerys' home and Pacey's car in exchange for dropping the property charges. For the rest, Audrey got off with a suspended license and a stint in rehab. The lawyer had her on a plane to California within the week.

While she didn't miss Audrey's behavior over the last few months, Joey did miss her friend. Audrey called her three weeks into rehab and apologized for all of it. Joey was relieved to hear Audrey sounding like herself again.

~*~*~

**II.**

Joey was packing for Christmas break when Pacey found her. She took one look at his face and knew. “How long this time?”

Pacey didn't answer her question directly. “I wouldn't go, Jo, but it's _Fiddlesticks_ , that boat I've been working on for months. They're going to take her around the world, and they've asked me to come along. Do you know how rare it is to sail around the world? And on a boat I helped build.”

“How. Long.”

“Anywhere from two to five months. It's hard to know in advance.”

Five months. He was blithely leaving her for half a year. Joey refused to cry. This was what she'd been preparing herself for all this time. “When do you leave?”

“New Year's. We can still have Christmas together.”

_The last Christmas_ , thought Joey. She didn't mention the rules. She didn't see the point.

~*~*~

Christmas was an epic disaster. 

Mike Potter, unwilling to see beyond the ideal Dawson and punk kid Pacey of their youth, was markedly unsupportive of Joey and Pacey's relationship. Joey was too upset about Pacey leaving to offer up much of a defense. So Pacey was sleeping on Doug's couch, instead of Joey's bed, for the duration of their stay in Capeside.

After a bad summer at home, Audrey's drinking and partying were out of control. She showed up trashed to Christmas dinner at the Leerys and lambasted them all, calling them out on their drama.

It started with a run at Dawson and Pacey, pretending to be friends when everyone knew they hated each other. Then she turned on Dawson specifically. “Dawson the Long-suffering. Dawson the Saint. Dawson, whose heart will always belong to sweet little Joey Potter, no matter how many actresses he bangs. Do you really not get it? She doesn't want you! Even if she and Popeye the sailor-man broke up tomorrow, she still wouldn't want you.

“And as for you,” she turned on Joey, “perfect Potter, the girl every guy wants and every girl wants to be. You know what? I don't see it. You're selfish and self-righteous and so repressed that one day you're just going to explode, and what a glorious mess that will be.”

“You're out of line, Audrey.”

“Ah, the knight in shining armor speaks up at last. I mean, you are the perfect boyfriend, right, Pacey? Except that pesky disappearing act of yours. You know, all those months when she cries herself to sleep while you're living it up at every sleazy port in the world.”

“That is quite enough,” Mitch Leery said, rising from the table. “You've disrespected my son and your friends, as well as myself and my wife, who were kind enough to host you, a complete stranger. Now, go upstairs and sleep it off.”

Tears filled Audrey's eyes. She took a step back and looked at the door, as though prepared to run for it.

“Upstairs, Audrey,” Mitch repeated. 

Unused to the display of parental authority, Audrey obeyed. Jen, less directly impacted by Audrey's words and knowing a bit about self-destructive behavior herself, helped her to bed.

Awkward silence reigned for a minute. Pacey, predictably, broke it. “And here I thought I was avoiding a scene by not having Christmas with my folks.”

~*~*~

Pacey tapped on her window while Joey was getting ready for bed that night. Joey opened it and pulled him in out of the cold.

“Is this really the night for a booty call, Pace?”

“Was she telling the truth, Jo?”

“Who? When?” Joey evaded the question as she shut out the snowy night.

“Audrey. About you, when I'm gone.”

“Please. I'm not the cry all night type,” Joey lied. “What about you? Got a girl in every port, sailor?”

“You know I don't.”

“Exactly. Audrey was drunk and full of shit. Now, since you're here, come to bed and warm me up. The furnace is on the fritz again.”

“I'll stay if you want me to, Jo.”

“Didn't I just ask?”

“Not that. I mean, yes, of course, I'll spend the night. And look at the furnace in the morning.” Pacey shed his coat. “But the trip. If you don't want me to go, say the word.”

_And have you hate me for it?_ Joey thought. _Not a chance._ “Take your trip. Have fun. Bring me back something pretty.”

Pacey didn't smile at her lighthearted response. If anything, he looked...disappointed? “Whatever you say, Potter.” He pulled off shirt, shoes and pants before climbing into bed with her. He kissed her forehead. “Merry Christmas, Jo.”

“Merry Christmas, Pace.”

She thought she wasn't alone in knowing it was their last one.

~*~

**I.**

Thanksgiving went by, Christmas, New Year's. Bessie and Bodie celebrated their anniversary. They still fought, they still laughed, and they still loved each other.

“Okay,” said Joey. “Let's get the bloodwork and the license.”

Pacey grinned. “You love me.”

“Sixty days,” Joey warned. “Sixty days to line up a justice of the peace, our schedules, and two clueless witnesses. Otherwise, it can just expire.”

Pacey wrapped her in his arms and kissed her nose. “And they say you're not a romantic.”

~*~*~

**II.**

To distract herself from the pain of Pacey's leaving, Joey started out the new year with a new project. She was going to convince Professor Dickhead to help Eddie out with his writing. It took some effort, but she finally got his endorsement on a scholarship program at a writing workshop in L.A. Then began the equally Herculean task of getting Eddie to accept it.

“I don't get it. Why are you doing all this for me?”

“I don't know. Maybe I hate to see a dream die.”

Audrey's alcohol-fueled downward spiral bottomed out right as Eddie was heading for L.A. Her parents had arranged a stint in rehab for her, if Joey could get her to California. The opportunity was too good to pass up. Joey recruited Eddie to take her and Audrey with him. 

But Audrey wasn't the least bit pleased to be going and spent most of the trip needling Joey with snide remarks about how Joey was only doing this to spend more time with Eddie.

“Not that I blame you,” Audrey told her during one of their bathroom stops. “He's drop-dead gorgeous. I'd do him myself if he wasn't so clearly into you. But don't be a hypocrite and say this trip is about me. I'm just the beard for when your absentee boyfriend calls.”

“You're not a beard, and I don't want Eddie.”

“You want something, Joey. And you'd better figure out what it is before you hurt a bunch of people you love, something I know a bit about.”

Joey didn't figure it out, though. Not until they reached the City of Angels, and it was time to say goodbye to Eddie. The moment when he went for a hug, and she countered with a kiss.

Joey hadn't lied to Audrey. She didn't want Eddie. She wanted to stop waiting for the ax to fall. She wanted an out.

~*~*~

Before flying back to Boston, Joey made time for an afternoon with Dawson. They went to his favorite beach. He told her about his new film project and his recent breakup with the latest actress.

She told him about the road trip and asked him to check in sometimes on Audrey.

Dawson groaned. “That girl is a walking disaster.”

“That shouldn't bother you. You love disaster movies. Please, for me? She could use someone like you. You're a good friend to have, Dawson Leery.”

“Fine. For you.”

The silence lengthened while the wind pulled at Joey's hair and tried to whisper in her ears.

“How's Pacey?”

Joey watched the sailboats on the horizon. “Gone. You were right, Dawson. It was never going to last.”

~*~*~

Pacey called two days after Joey got back to Boston. She could barely hear over the noise of the bar or party around him.

“Jo? Can you...going well...wind speed...March.”

“Pacey, we need to talk.”

“What? I can't hear you.”

“It's over, Pacey.”

“Hold on, still can't...”

“I said it's over! I kissed another guy!” Joey screamed into the phone.

Only then did she become aware of the lack of background noise on the other end. Pacey must have stepped outside just in time to hear her confession.

There was a long silence from his end.

“Pacey? Are you still there?”

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. She thought he might be crying. “Yeah, I'm here, Jo.”

Tears sprang to her eyes at his soft words, but she forced them back. This was her choice. “I'm sorry, Pace.”

“No, no, don't be. It's my fault. I had this coming. I hope...” Pacey's voice sounded thick; he cleared his throat again. “I hope he's good to you, that he's more what you deserve.”

“Pace—” 

“I gotta go, Jo. Be, uh, be happy, okay?” The line went dead.

Joey listened to the dial tone for a long time.

~*~

**I.**

There was no one like Pacey for making magic happen when he was sufficiently motivated. So on February 7, 2003, at approximately 1:17 p.m., Joey found herself in a Boston records office with Pacey, Andersen, Jen and Doug, who both thought they were headed to lunch until the moment Pacey pulled up at the courthouse.

Jen, holding Anders, was delighted. Doug grinned ear to ear. Joey tried not to hurl. “Let's get this over with,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Are, are you sure you want to go through with this, miss?” asked the old man behind the desk. Something in Joey's face alarmed him.

“Tell her to look at the groom,” Jen instructed. “She'll find it harder to scowl.”

Pacey took her hands in his as Joey reluctantly turned to face him. He ducked his head, cerulean eyes searching hers. “You can still back out, Joey. It's okay.”

Jen was right. It was impossible to look into Pacey's face and maintain an angry shield. But behind that shield, there was only terror. Joey squeezed his hands tight and lifted them between their chests. “Promise me it won't all end in flames?”

“You know I can't do that, Jo. I can only promise what I came here to swear, to love you until the day I'm dead.”

Joey took a deep breath. “And the piece of paper really matters?”

Pacey kissed the back of her left knuckle, ring finger, bare for the last day. “Only if you say it does.”

The piece of paper was just a symbol, so was the ring, but they told the world he was hers and she was his.

Joey nodded, finally certain. “It matters. Let's get married.”

~*~

After the ceremony, it was Joey's turn to be surprised. Pacey had planned a mini-honeymoon for them. He had already asked Jen to watch Anders for the weekend, telling her it was a pre-Valentine's Day getaway, and he'd cleared Joey's work schedule with the same excuse. 

He declined absolutely to tell her where they were headed. “You're the smart one. You'll figure it out.”

She did. But not until several hours of driving and one unmistakable turnoff later. “Seriously, Pacey? The ski lodge? We don't even ski.”

He grinned and waggled his eyebrows at her. “All the more reason to go. Anyway, I'm devastated to discover I'm the only one sentimental enough to remember that two years ago today, this became a very important landmark in our lives.”

Joey gaped at him. “Pace, please tell me you did not arrange our wedding so it would coincide with the day I lost my virginity.”

“Not arranged, exactly. More of a fortuitous coincidence.”

She swatted his arm. Hard. “That's it. I want a divorce.”

“Sure, no problem,” Pacey said as he parked outside the motel lobby. “First thing Monday morning. But for now, we've got the honeymoon suite, no baby, and we both hate to ski.” He leaned in close to her with those pleading blue eyes.

Joey groaned and kissed him. “I suppose another seventy-two hours won't kill me.”

~*~

Hours later, they lay entwined in the giant bed, Joey's back to Pacey's chest. He had taken her left hand in his and watched fascinated as the flames from the fireplace reflected off the thin gold bands.

“It doesn't seem real,” he said in a hushed voice.

“You want to look at our copy of the certificate again?”

“Maybe later. It went by so fast. I kinda thought I would have a chance to say some stuff to you.”

Joey kissed the line of his throat. “Pacey Witter, did you want to write your own vows?”

“Nah. I mean, after promising to love you 'til I'm dead, take care of our son, make you chocolate cake when you're PMS-ing and pick my dirty clothes off the floor, I ran out of ideas.”

“Hmm, I imagine if I had thought about mine, they would have included love you 'til I'm dead, keep you as sexually satisfied as one woman can, coddle your overreactions to every little sniffle, and, if the day ever comes when you drive me to murder you, to feel enough remorse to make it a murder-suicide.”

“Probably for the best we didn't, then. That poor clerk was scarred enough from the experience.”

Joey turned the ring around Pacey's finger while he peppered kisses along her spine. “So, if not vows, what did you want to say?”

Pacey wrapped his arms around her waist over the covers. Joey laced her fingers through his and watched the flames flicker. “I guess I wanted to say how lucky I am. How I was fortunate enough to grow up knowing the most stubborn, infuriating, brilliant, gorgeous girl in the world, to be her friend...and sometimes her enemy. How I had the joy every day of watching her become even stronger and more beautiful and more extraordinary. How somehow, in a twist of fate I still don't comprehend, this girl actually grew to love me back. How two years ago today she gave me what I thought was the most precious gift in the world, and nine months later showed me I was wrong by giving me something even better. I wanted to say I love you, Joey, and it's not a cut and paste set of vows anyone could repeat. It is everyday I wake up with the privilege of sharing a life with you.”

Joey hugged his arms tighter around her. The tears in her eyes blurred the firelight's glow. “I'm glad you didn't say those things then, Pace. Jen would have retched, Doug would have cried, and I would have been forced to say something sarcastic to restore order.”

Pacey laughed against her shoulder. “As opposed to now, when you can snark without audience.”

“As opposed to now, when I can memorize this moment for the rest of my life.” She turned over in his arms, hands on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm. “I am ridiculously, dementedly, indestructibly in love with you, Pacey Witter, and I made the smartest decision of my life today. I married the perfect boy.”

“Careful, Mrs. Witter. Talk like that won't help you in the divorce proceedings.”

Joey levered herself up and brushed his mouth with hers. “About that? I'm thinking seventy-two hours might be a tad hasty.”

“Just a bit,” Pacey agreed between kisses. “How much more time were you thinking to give us?” 

She pushed him lower into the down mattress. “How about seventy-two years, give or take?”

“I could work with that.”

~*~

“Aren't you forgetting something?” Joey waited at the bottom of the stoop, arms folded, as she stared up at Pacey under the porch light.

Pacey looked back, his key already in the lock. “Are you kidding me? All the wedding traditions you couldn't care less about, and on this one, you insist?”

Joey grinned and nodded, biting her tongue between her teeth. “I'm pretty sure it's essential to future wedded bliss.”

“I'm pretty sure it's going to throw my back out.” But he dropped their bags on the steps and walked back to her. Pacey grabbed her waist in both hands and kissed the tip of her nose. “This is the last time, Potter.”

“It's Witter now, and we'll see about that.” Joey squealed in delight as Pacey swept her up into his arms.

He groaned. “Why couldn't I have married a petite little doll?”

“Because Jen finds you utterly unattractive.” Joey kissed the underside of his chin.

Pacey shifted her weight, somehow managing to open the door without dropping her. He had one foot in the door, mouth opened to deliver some biting comeback, when the lights flashed on, amid shouts of “Surprise!”

Pacey's grip on Joey tightened instead of loosened. They both stared in shock at their assembled friends and family.

“You have a surprise wedding, you get a surprise wedding reception,” Jen said from the front of the crowd.

“Don't just stand there, Pacey,” Mitch Leery told him. “Bring your bride across the threshold.” 

Pacey obeyed to the cheers and whistles of the guests. While the newlyweds obliged their friends with a kiss, Jack brought in their bags and shut the door.

Bessie pulled Joey into a fierce hug. “I can't believe you got married without me!” 

“Sorry, Bess,” Joey mumbled, but could not hear her sister's reply as she was passed from arms to arms for whirlwind congratulations.

Mrs. Ryan was predictably smug. Gretchen glowed with joy. Sheriff Witter gave Joey a pat on the back and a gruff, “Welcome to the family.”

Dawson took her hands and pulled her to the edges of the crowd. “Why didn't you tell me, Joey?”

Joey couldn't hold his gaze. “I'm sorry, Dawson.” She tried to think of a palatable excuse, but had none.

“I'm sorry, too. My two best friends in the world got married, and I wasn't there. I could have recorded it for posterity. I don't suppose I could talk you into a reenactment?”

Joey laughed in relief. “Not yet. Try again when I have a few drinks in me.”

“I'll hold you to that.” Dawson finally hugged her. “Congratulations, Joey.”

“Thank you, Dawson.”

Jen pulled her away to join Pacey and Anders on the couch for presents. Anders was still enamored with wrapping paper, while Joey was humbled by the love and generosity of their family and friends.

As the party wound down, Pacey pulled her close, kissed her hair, and asked, “Regrets yet, Jo?”

Joey leaned her head on his shoulder with a contented sigh. “No regrets. Ask me again ten years from now.”

*~*~*

**III.**

“Boys are riddylus...ricu...riddle...stupid. Boys are stupid,” an inebriated Joey confided to Jen.

Her friend laughed as she poured them both another drink. “You'll get no argument from me.”

The three stupid boys in question were proudly displaying their monstrosity of a television set to the large crowd smashed into the Pit.

“I don't even know most of these people,” Joey protested.

“Me, either. Let's assume everyone you don't know goes to film school, and everyone I don't know works at a restaurant and thus avoid confusion.”

“You sound less drunk than me. But I know we've had all the same drinks,” Joey pouted.

“I started young, built up a tolerance. You, Joey, are what we call a lightweight.”

“Not true! I weigh way more than you. You're so short!” This struck Joey as exceedingly funny, and she patted Jen on the top of the head, giggling.

Jen grinned at her. “At least you're a fun drunk, Joey. That's better than me. I'm a slutty drunk.”

Joey continued to laugh helplessly. “We should play spin-the-bottle!” She sloshed her drink in excitement.

“Sure, we'll play spin-the-bottle if you can name one guy in this room you actually want to kiss.”

Joey scanned the room, looking for someone she liked or, failing that, knew. “Pacey!”

“Pacey is your boyfriend. You can kiss him whenever you want. Try again.”

“Jack's a good kisser.”

Jen snorted. “Yeah, he is. But unless you're willing to watch Jack kiss Pacey, I'm going to nix spin-the-bottle.”

Joey sighed. “You're right.” She paused, picturing it. “That might be kinda hot.”

“Oh, it would be totally hot. But if the bottle was unkind and I kissed Pacey, you'd rip my throat out, and you know it. So, still, no.” She deftly relieved Joey of her empty glass. “And that is your last drink, my friend, or fun, drunk Joey is going to become stomach-pump-needing Joey.”

“Aww, thank you, Jen.” She gave the small blonde a sloppy hug. “You're such a good friend. Isn't it funny how I used to hate you 'cause of Dawson, and now I love that you're with Dawson? You keep him safe from skanky actesses. Actesses? That's not right. What's right? Ugh, I don't feel so good.”

Jen pulled out of the hug, but kept an arm around Joey for balance. “Hey, Pacey,” she called. “If you can take a minute away from your new child, I think this big baby needs to go to bed.”

“Are you tired, Jen?”

Before Jen could answer, another pair of arms wrapped around Joey's waist. “Lindley, did you get Potter drunk? What did we decide about that?”

“Um, that it's hilarious and needs to be preserved on film for generations to come.”

“Damn right. So next time, make sure you have a camcorder on hand for these moments. Dating Dawson has to have some kind of perk.”

“Mmm, I take my perks in the form of—”

“Finish that sentence, and I will puncture my own eardrums. How you doing, Jo?” He stroked one hand down her hair.

“I like that,” Joey mumbled, snuggling closer to Pacey while Jen walked away.

“Like what?”

“You petting me like I'm your kitty-cat.”

Pacey stifled a burst of laughter. “I want to say something so dirty right now, but you're too drunk to appreciate it.”

“Something about my claws?” Joey dug her nails into his lower back and smiled up at him.

“Ow. Not remotely. And now, my intoxicated feline, do you want coffee or bed?”

“Bed, please,” she said, kissing his throat. “And you. And all these people gone. They can take the stupid TV with them.”

“Miss Josephine Potter, I do believe you're jealous of Bertha.”

Joey pouted. “She's not as pretty as I am, but you've only looked at her all night.”

“My abject apologies. Is there any way I can make it up to you?”

Joey wrapped her arms around his neck and giggled. “Carry me.”

Pacey groaned. “This again?”

“Carry me or kiss Jack. Those are your choices.”

“Why would you want me to kiss Jack?”

“Because it would be hot.” The duh was implied.

“Well, you're not wrong, but I think, all things considered, I'll opt for what's behind door number one.”

Faster than Joey's drunken mind could process, she was in Pacey's arms. Her equilibrium reoriented itself while Pacey carried her to his room. “I am a lovely drunk,” she told him. “Jen says so.”

“Jen is right, as usual.” Pacey staggered into his darkened room, hitting the light switch with his elbow.

“You're not a fun drunk, Pace.”

“I'm not?” He laid her gently on the bed before returning to close the door. The sounds of the party became muted.

Joey shook her head solemnly. “No, you're maudlin. Maudlin is the 'posite of fun. But it's better than mean. Dawson is a mean drunk.”

“Guess that officially settles it, then. Only Joey gets to be drunk from now on.” While he spoke, Pacey removed her shoes and pulled the covers over her.

“That's a good rule.” Joey's eyes had drifted closed, when a sudden thought made her pull them open. “Hey! You were going to say something about my pussy, weren't you?”

Pacey laughed and kissed her forehead. “Night, Jo.”

“Pig,” she murmured, while settling deeper into the mattress.

“Sweet dreams.” He flicked off the light.

~*~*~

**II.**

Once the deed was done, Joey had expected a feeling of relief, or at least release. Instead, there was nothing. A void in the inner kingdom where Pacey used to reign.

And she felt lonely. She told herself that wasn't about the breakup. Pacey was no farther away from her now than he had been before. It was because her roommate was missing, and Eddie was gone. Even Emma had moved back to England.

Joey tried to spend more time with Jack and Jen, but they were both in the giddy stage of new relationships. Being with them was more painful than being alone.

When her phone rang late one night, she pounced on it. “Pacey?”

“Wow, desperate much? What's the matter, bunny? Trouble in paradise?”

“Audrey.” Relief warred with regret as Joey sank back onto her bed. “How are you?”

“Sober. It's a pretty terrible feeling, actually. And I'm going to have to beg your forgiveness for a dozen different crimes, for one of these stupid steps. But before I do, I have to tell you about another wrong I've done you, and, this time, I wasn't even drunk for an excuse.”

“What could you have possibly done to me here, when you're across the country?”

“I kissed Dawson. I didn't mean to! He's been coming around here a lot, and I'm so bored, and he's sort of charming in a giant dork kind of way, and it just happened. I'm so, so, so sorry, Joey.”

Joey laughed. “I'll forgive you on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Next time you see Dawson, kiss him again.”

“What! Are you serious?”

“Absolutely. You two might be good for each other. Or you might be a colossal disaster. Either way, it will make rehab more fun.”

“Joey, have I mentioned that you are the best of all possible roommates, and a saint among women?”

“Mmm, I think 'cold, repressive bitch' has been your favorite moniker for me lately.”

“God, Joey, I am the worst. I'm sorry.”

“Forgiven. Just get better.”

“Working on it. I was serious when I asked about Pacey earlier, though. Dawson said he thinks you two are on the outs.”

“Dawson's right.”

“This 'cause of Eddie?”

“No, this is because I'm a cold, repressive bitch, and he's an absentee boyfriend.”

“You love each other, Joey.”

“Yeah, well, as the song says, sometimes love just ain't enough.”

~*~*~

_Beware the Ides of March_ , wrote Shakespeare, and Joey was not one to gainsay the Bard. Especially when that was the day Pacey walked into her bar.

“Hey, Jo, can we talk?”

She waved the tray in her hands and gestured at the crowded room around them. “Little busy here.”

“That's okay. I can wait.” He took a stool at the bar.

Joey started to walk away, paused and turned back. “I'm glad you're home safe, Pacey.”

A slow smile claimed Pacey's face. “Thanks, Jo.”

Hell's Kitchen was packed that night, and Joey was working non-stop. But she managed to steal glances at Pacey throughout the evening. He looked tanned and fit, as he always did after one of his trips. He was also sporting about three days worth of stubble, which was a new look for him, and far sexier than it had any right to be. But there were circles under his eyes and a new, harder set to his mouth. Pacey looked good, but not happy.

A couple different times, women approached him. Joey didn't hear what was said, but they didn't linger long. That might be for her benefit. Best place to pick up chicks, not under your ex-girlfriend's nose.

Finally, Joey's shift ended. She wasn't in charge of closing, so she grabbed her coat and purse and tapped Pacey on the shoulder. “Walk me home?”

Pacey nodded. Always a gentleman, he helped her put on her jacket before they stepped into the brisk night air.

Afraid of what Pacey had to say, Joey opened the conversation herself. “So how was your trip?”

She expected Pacey's face to light up the way it always did when he talked about sailing. She thought she was in for stories about prize fish, freak storms and fast winds, interspersed with whatever raunchy new jokes he'd learned.

Pacey shrugged his shoulders and buried his hands in his pockets. “It was okay.”

“'Okay'? Pacey, 'okay' is how you describe an algebra test. 'Okay' is not how you describe a once-in-a-lifetime, round-the-world adventure.”

“What do you want me to say? That after you ripped my heart out, I just threw it overboard and went back to enjoying the view?”

Joey winced. “I'm sorry, Pacey.”

“No, I'm sorry. I didn't come here to yell at you.”

The obvious response was to ask why he did come, but Joey was afraid of the answer, so she said, “It's okay if you did. I deserve it.”

“No, you deserve the truth.”

Joey's mouth went dry. “What truth?”

“Do you remember—dumb question, of course you remember—senior year, when you got pregnant?”

Confused, Joey nodded. What could that have to do with anything?

“I had been thinking, for weeks I had been thinking, I'm going down, and I'm dragging her down with me. I had even decided, on that trip with Doug, that I needed to end things with you, for your own good. Then I found out you were pregnant, and nothing else mattered anymore because you needed me. Except you didn't, really. You knew what you wanted to do, and you did it, and the most I could do was hold your hand through it.”

“Pacey—” 

“No, that was good. Honestly. I told myself that if you realized a baby wasn't right for you, and you could cut it out of your life, then you could do the same to me, once you finally figured out I'm no good.”

Was that what she had done? Cut Pacey out of her heart as easily as she'd aborted the fetus? It didn't feel the same to Joey.

“I'm not explaining this well. That realization, that epiphany was freeing for me. Suddenly, I didn't have to be the one to let you go. I could hold on, selfishly maybe, until you were tired of me. But then I got scared. I started thinking, when that day comes, what will I have left?”

“So you went sailing.”

Pacey nodded. “Somewhere in my thick, confused brain, I thought sailing could be a retreat, a place to hide when things inevitably fell apart. I could use it to distance myself from you. But it didn't work. Dougie told me once that every time I looked at the stars, I would see your face, and he was right. I still do.”

Joey averted her face, so he wouldn't see the tears in her eyes. “Why are you telling me now?”

“I guess I wanted you to know why I left so often, to apologize for not treating you better.”

“You treated me fine.” Joey looked at her feet as they walked along. It was uncomfortable, uncomfortable and wrong, to walk all this way next to Pacey and not be touching him in some way.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to let you off the hook.”

“Off the hook?”

“You shouldn't feel guilty for breaking up with me. I always knew it was coming, but I don't regret a single day I had with you.”

They had reached the dormitory doors. Joey stopped and turned toward him, but her eyes remained on their feet. “I don't—I don't know what to say.”

Pacey laughed, but there was a sob buried in it. “I think 'goodbye' pretty much covers it, don't you?”

Joey was numb. She wished her brain or her heart would start functioning fast enough to stop this, to change the ending, but they both remained stubbornly silent. “Goodbye, Pacey.”

He took her hands in his, bowed low and kissed them. “Goodbye, Josephine Potter.” Then he was gone.

Too sick to think, Joey walked down the hall to her room. A man was sitting in front of her door; he stretched out his lanky frame at her approach.

“Joey. Hey.”

Joey froze. “Eddie. What are you doing here? Why aren't you in school?”

“Don't start until fall, and I'm here because...I can't stop thinking about that kiss.”

“Eddie, no.” Joey fumbled for her keys.

He grabbed her arms. “Hear me out. I know you have a boyfriend, but I also know no one makes the kind of effort you made for me unless they care. _You_ kissed _me_ in L.A. There's an attraction here, Joey, and a connection I think goes a lot deeper than that. Don't you owe it to yourself to explore that, before you tie yourself down to the wrong man?”

The wrong man. Dawson, who knew Joey better than anyone, was convinced she and Pacey couldn't last. Pacey had apparently spent their entire relationship believing he wasn't right for her. And Joey herself had accepted its finite nature and cut the cord.

Pacey was the wrong man. And this sickness in her belly, the heaviness in her limbs, the emptiness where her heart should be, they were just part of the breakup experience.

“Come in, Eddie,” she said.

~*~*~

Joey slept with Eddie that night. If she waited, she would only second guess herself, only try spinning Pacey's speech into something it wasn't. Letting another man into her bed felt irrevocable. There would be no going back, and she needed that certainty.

She didn't orgasm. It wasn't Eddie's fault. He was a considerate lover and tried valiantly, probably would have kept trying if Joey hadn't taken pity on him. But Joey was never able to relax in new situations. She missed fingers that played her body like the strings of a violin and words that made her laugh even at the height of passion.

After Eddie fell asleep, Joey headed for the showers. She scrubbed her body until it was red and raw, then hid in a corner of the stall and sobbed until the water ran cold.

When she returned to her room, Joey watched Eddie sleeping for several minutes, then climbed into Audrey's empty bed. In the morning, she told Eddie she wasn't much of a cuddler. She also agreed to a date that night.

In the light of day, Joey berated herself for her ridiculous behavior. She hadn't done anything wrong. She and Pacey had been broken up for months. Pacey had probably bedded a dozen women by now. Didn't she believe women had the right to as much sexual freedom as men?

She went to bed with Eddie again that night, and she was entirely rational about it. She didn't cry. She didn't run for the showers. She didn't sleep in Audrey's bed. But she didn't come, either.

*~*~*

**III.**

They were both at work when he got the phone call.

“Pacey, your friend Dawson is on the line.” Roberto, the manager, had left his office to deliver the message. That fact alone, when there were rules against taking personal calls at work, would have been enough to alert Joey something was wrong, even without Roberto's grim expression.

Pacey set down his carving knife and washed his hands without saying a word.

Joey held out her laden tray to another waitress. “Handle Table 11 for me, will you, Kim?”

“Sure thing, Joey.” The bubbly blonde shot a worried look at Pacey before she went to the dining area.

Pacey grabbed the extension phone on the wall. Joey stood behind him, one hand resting on his back, the other worrying her lip. A hush had fallen over the bustling kitchen; those still working did so in silence.

“Hey, D, what's up?” There was a long silence. Joey wished she could hear the other side of the conversation. “When?...No, not when he called, when did it happen?...Okay. You mind throwing some clothes and stuff in a bag for me? I'll be there soon to pick it up...No, it's fine. Thanks, anyway. Bye.” For a moment after he hung up the receiver, Pacey held onto it, unmoving.

“Pace? Pace, what's wrong? What happened?”

Pacey turned to face her with the jerky movements of someone not fully cognizant of their actions. “My dad had a heart attack.”

“Is he okay? He's not...”

“He's in the hospital. Dawson didn't know much more. Dougie left a message on the machine. I gotta...I gotta go to Capeside.”

“Of course. I'll go with you.”

“You've got classes tomorrow.”

“Just one, and no test or assignments due. I'll skip it. Let me come with you, Pace.”

Pacey nodded, looking relieved. “Thanks, Jo.”

Joey turned to Roberto, the only one of the staff not pretending not to eavesdrop. “Mr. Barajas—”

“It's fine, Joey. I'll arrange for your shifts to be covered the next three days. If you need more time than that, just give me twenty-four hours' notice. Pacey, I hope your father has a swift and thorough recovery.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Joey hurried Pacey, still in a daze, out to the car. Her offer to drive snapped him out of it.

“You? Drive my baby? She's only now recovered from what Audrey did to her.”

She rested her hand on Pacey's knee as he drove them to the Pit. “Talk to me, Pace. What are you thinking? Better yet, what are you feeling?”

“When I figure that out, you'll be the first to know.”

Their stop at Pacey's apartment was short, just long enough for Joey to add her toothbrush and a couple changes of clothes to Pacey's bag and to listen to Doug's actual message. Dawson, Jen, and Jack sent them off with hugs, well-wishes, and sandwiches for the road.

They were halfway to Capeside before Pacey spoke. “You'd think, after Mitch, this wouldn't have caught me so off-guard. But I can't wrap my head around it.”

“No matter how old we are, we never want to think of our parents as mortal.”

“I'm sorry, Jo, I wasn't—”

“No, Pacey. I wasn't playing the dead mom card. Or if I was, only in the sense that I know what you're going through, and I'm here for you. Whatever you need.”

Pacey brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. They drove the rest of the way in silence.

*~*~*

When they reached the hospital, visiting hours were long over, but Doug was waiting for them. The brothers didn't hug upon sight, which saddened Joey. She and Bessie would have hugged even under normal circumstances.

“Any updates?” Pacey asked without preamble.

“They say he's going to be okay. No need for a bypass surgery. They want him to stay a few days for observation, and the doctor may prescribe some new medications. He needs to cut out the drinking and make some diet changes he's not going to like. But he'll be okay.” Doug had aged ten years since Christmas. Or maybe in one day. He offered Joey a wan smile; Joey did what Pacey couldn't and hugged him.

“Where are Ma and the girls?”

“I sent Mom home a few hours ago. Kerry and the kids are with her. The others are flying into Logan tomorrow. Gretch is gonna rent a car and drive down, so we don't need to pick them up.”

“Can I see him?” Pacey's voice sounded different on this last question. Less brusque, more choked. Joey squeezed his fingers.

“He's probably sleeping, but come on.”

Joey wasn't sure she should accompany the Witter brothers, but Pacey didn't let go of her hand, so she trailed behind. She hated hospitals. Ever since her mom got sick, the smell of them made her want to throw up. The sounds—monitors beeping, squeaky shoes on waxed floors—were the noises of her nightmares. Joey gripped Pacey's fingers as tightly as he held hers.

John Witter shared a room with two other men. The one at the far end was twisting and turning and groaning, but Pacey's father was fast asleep. Sheriff Witter, too, was a creature of nightmare to Joey. Twice she'd watched him take away her father in handcuffs. But lying on the crisp, white, hospital sheets, he looked sick and...small, somehow. She pulled her gaze to Pacey and was unsurprised to see tears swimming in his eyes.

“Hey, Pops,” he said in an unsteady whisper.

They all stood in silence until a nurse shooed them out.

Pacey stopped in the waiting room. “I'm going to stay.”

“Pacey, there's nothing you can do. You should go home, see Mom, get some rest.”

“You do all that. I'm gonna stay. But if you wouldn't mind, you could drive Joey out to Bessie's.”

Joey grabbed onto Pacey's arm. “You stay, I stay.”

Doug frowned at both of them. “If you insist. I'll clear it with the nurses' station. But try and get some sleep, and stay out of the nurses' hair. They know what they're doing.”

“I'm not a kid anymore, Dougie. I don't need you to boss me around.”

“Pace,” Joey warned.

Doug raised his hands in surrender. “Fine, little brother, have it your way. I'll see you tomorrow.” Despite Doug's words, Joey saw him stop and talk to the nurse on duty before he left.

Pacey collapsed into one of the waiting room chairs. Joey sat more carefully beside him. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes.

“Barnacle for your thoughts?”

Pacey barked a laugh. “When's the last time you saw a barnacle, Jo?”

“Good point. But I did see a coffee machine down the hall, and I'll substitute a cup of coffee for an inedible crustacean.”

“My thoughts, my thoughts...” Pacey sighed, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When we were kids, Dawson and I built a fort in the woods—”

“The no-girls-allowed fort, yes, I remember. I hated that thing so much.”

Pacey snorted. “Yeah, well, we used Pops' tools to build it. One day, it started raining, so we hopped on our bikes and hurried home. Didn't even think about the tools. Pops noticed they were missing when he got home—I think Ma asked him to fix a shelf or something—and I had to tell him where they were. He was so mad, called me, well, called me all the names he always called me. Then he told me I'd better go back and get them. Ma objected, for once, because of the storm and how dark it was. So he sent me running out in the rain while he followed behind in the squad car, barely moving, shining the lights on me.”

Pacey's hands twisted together, his gaze distant. “I remember that part the clearest, running in the mud...my shoes kept pulling off. Anyway, when we got there, I packed up all the tools in the box, and Pops got out of the car and put them in his trunk. Then he hit me upside the head. I went flying, bam, down on the ground. And that man in there, the man responsible for my existence, my father, he walks over and he kicks me a couple times for good measure and tells me that his tools are a man's tools not toys for an idiot boy. Then he got in his car and drove away.”

Pacey made a sound halfway between a laugh and a sob. “I'm pretty sure that's the most expensive cup of coffee I ever bought. It better be worth it, Potter.”

Joey, for the first time in her life, had zero words. There was literally nothing she could say. She put a hand on Pacey's hunched over back and rose slowly, placing a kiss on the top of his tousled hair as she did so. She went to get the coffee.

As she did, she thought over Pacey's story and realized, for all her good intentions, she had no idea what Pacey was going through. Joey had lost her mother at an age when no girl ever should, but, while her mother was alive, not a single day had gone by when Joey hadn't known her mom loved her. Mitch Leery's death had been a tragedy which blindsided them all, but the reason they had grieved so much was because he had been an amazing father, not just to Dawson, but to all of them.

What was it like when the parent you feared losing was someone you loved and hated in equal measure? Joey tried visualizing how she would feel if it were her father lying in that bed. That, perhaps, was more equivalent, but still fell far short of the mark.

Joey returned to the waiting room with two cups of coffee and a determination to do the best thing she could for Pacey. To sit beside him, hold his hand, and listen.


	6. Chapter 6

**III.**

The night was long.

As if to make amends for the story he'd told about his father, Pacey accosted Joey with the tale of a Witter family day at the beach when his dad helped him make a giant sandcastle. The story trailed off at the end. Pacey frowned, and Joey knew he'd remembered some less idyllic part of that day. He didn't share, and she didn't force him.

They dozed in fits and starts, sometimes sprawled on multiple chairs, sometimes using each other as pillows. Ignoring Doug's warnings, Pacey made a nuisance of himself with the nurses. But he was born with the devil's own charm; by the end of the night, Joey was convinced half the nurses wanted to marry him, and the other half to mother him. He checked on his father personally twice more, but the sheriff was sleeping each time. Pacey looked relieved.

*~*~*

“Wakey, wakey, little sis.” It wasn't Bessie's voice, but the smell of fresh roasted coffee under her nose which pulled Joey out of another unsatisfactory nap.

She stretched, feeling the twinges of aching muscles in her back and neck. At some point, Pacey had covered her with his jacket. “What time is it?”

“A little after seven. Doug called and told me what happened. I brought coffee and Bodie's cinnamon rolls, along with his love.”

“You and Bodie are both angels,” Joey proclaimed as she swiped the bag of gooey, sugary treats. She glanced around while she devoured the first roll. Early morning sun poured in through the sliding glass doors. The nurse at the duty desk had changed. Joey's boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. “Where's Pacey?”

“Haven't the foggiest. Maybe visiting his dad? How's the sheriff doing?”

Joey filled her sister in, leaving out the personal recollections Pacey had shared.

When she finished, Bessie said, “Well, I hope he gets well soon. What about you? Going to come home at all while you're here?”

“I'd like to, to get a shower and a change of clothes at least, but I want to check in with Pacey first. It might be better to wait until the rest of his family is here. He won't need me as much.”

“Or, knowing his family, he'll need you more. You're a braver woman than I, Josephine Potter, to face down the Witters _en masse_.”

“Yeah, well, you lucked out. Bodie's family is adorable.”

Bessie's smile lit her whole face. “I did, didn't I? Poor Bodie, though, he got stuck with you.”

Joey stuck her tongue out.

Bessie had to run, in order to help Bodie with cleanup and checkouts. Joey thanked her sister for breakfast and hugged her tight before she left.

Joey scarfed the rolls and sipped her coffee while waiting for Pacey to return. With great self-sacrifice, she saved two cinnamon buns for him. He had not returned by the time she finished her coffee. Joey checked with the nurse, but she hadn't seen him. She decided to peek into the sheriff's room, to see if Pacey was there.

She ran into him—almost literally—rounding the corner. He pulled himself short instead of bowling her over. “Let's go.” Pacey grabbed her hand and yanked her towards the exit at an almost run.

“Pacey? What happened?” Joey tried to read his expression and keep up with his breakneck speed. The riot of emotions crossing his face could be summed up in one word—pain. 

“Nothing I shouldn't have expected.”

Before Joey could follow up on that, they had reached the hospital doors—and Mrs. Witter and Doug entering through them.

“Pacey!” Mrs. Witter threw her arms around her son's neck in the first hug Joey had ever seen her give him. “I'm glad you're here.”

Pacey seemed as shocked by the gesture as Joey was. Slowly, hesitantly, he dropped his death grip on Joey's hand and wrapped his arms around his mother. “Hey, Ma.”

“Have you seen him? How is he?” Mrs. Witter's face was pale when she pulled back from the hug. She wore no make-up, and puffy bags stood out beneath her eyes.

“He's...he'll be fine, Mom. I was just with him. He's conscious and talking and exactly the same as he's always been.” Joey caught the edge in Pacey's voice; his mother did not.

The tension left her shoulders. “Thank God.”

Doug was less oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. “You two look beyond exhausted. Why don't you go get some rest? Mom and I will stay this morning. You can come back and see the girls later.”

It was a mark of how tired and unhappy Pacey was that he didn't argue with his brother. “Thanks, Dougie.” The brothers exchanged a shoulder clap, which was the most physical affection they'd expressed since Pacey's arrival.

Pacey took Joey's hand—more gently this time—and led her out to the car at a reasonable pace. Joey waited until they were settled inside to ask, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Pacey pulled out of the parking lot and turned towards the B&B, away from his family home. “You'd think after a heart attack the man might have something of value to say. Clear his conscience, make amends, two or three words to wipe out a lifetime of...Wanna know the first thing he said to me?”

Joey was positive she didn't, but she listened anyway.

“'Glad you could take time off dishwashing to visit your old man.' And when I reminded him, I'm a chef, not a busboy, he said, 'Same difference.' Then he asked if I've given any thought to the army and spent the rest of the time telling me about all the amazing things Dougie's doing for the family, Capeside, and the world in general.”

Joey laid her hand on the back of Pacey's neck. She rubbed at the steely tension there. “I'm sorry, Pace.”

“Yeah. Whatever. I should have known.”

“It's his loss, you know, not yours. He'll never get to know the amazing man you've become.”

Pacey didn't acknowledge her response as they pulled into the Potters' driveway. Alex ran outside and jumped into Joey's arms before they'd even made it to the porch. He told her all about kindergarten and his teacher and his best friend and Lily's cat who'd just had kittens. Pacey grabbed their bag from the trunk and walked beside them up to the house, listening to Alex's monologue with amusement. The stormclouds surrounding him dissipated more with every step.

Bessie met them at the door. A slight shake of the head from Joey froze the question about Sheriff Witter on her lips. Instead, Bessie started her own spiel on some of the more interesting guests they'd had recently. She gave a run-down on the state of the premises, asking Pacey to make some minor repairs if he got a chance. Joey smiled at her sister; Bessie always knew what to say.

And Bodie always knew what to do. He sat them both down to a large breakfast and asked Pacey how his first culinary classes were going. 

Joey basked in the warmth of her childhood home, listened with half an ear to Pacey and Bodie, and with the other to Bessie convincing Alex he still had to go to school today. Joey was exhausted, emotionally and physically, but it was good to be home. And Pacey perhaps needed it more than she did.

Bessie bundled Alex off to school, while Bodie turned his attention to cleanup. Pacey and Joey both offered to help, but he sent them to bed, saying they looked tired enough to fall over.

Joey led Pacey to her room, but the moment the door closed, sleep was the last thing on her mind. It became imperative to be in Pacey's arms, as close as humanly possible. Pacey must have been possessed by a similar idea. Neither started it; they fell into each other. 

_He needs to know how much I love him_ was Joey's driving thought. So she told him, breathed it into every inch of his skin, and showed him with every kiss, every caress of her fingers. 

When it was over, when they had given and taken as much pleasure as they could, Pacey laid his head upon her breasts and listened to her heartbeat. Jokey stroked his hair and pretended not to feel the tears landing on her skin.

*~*~*

When Joey woke, it was to afternoon sunshine and an empty bed. She took a quick shower and changed, then found Bessie ironing linens. 

“Afternoon, lazy bones,” her sister teased. “Before you even ask, Pacey was up hours ago. He fixed that detached gutter and the leaky faucet, then went back to the hospital. He said you should stay here, but I'm guessing you're not going to.”

Joey shook her head. “Can I borrow the truck?”

“Sure. I'll call Gail and ask her to pick up Alex from school. Is Pacey going to be okay? He looks rough.”

Joey spread her hands in a “who knows?” gesture. “Nothing makes me feel better about our family than time spent with Pacey's.”

When Joey arrived at the hospital—after more stalls than she cared to remember—Pacey and all his siblings were gathered in the waiting room. Their mom was sitting with their dad, who wasn't supposed to have too many visitors at once. Kerry's kids were bored and restless. Joey remembered too well what it was like being a child in a hospital waiting room. It gave her an idea of how she could be actually useful.

“I could take the kids to the park across the road, if you want,” Joey offered.

Kerry's grateful assent was almost drowned in a clamor of kids' voices. Pacey pressed Joey's hand and gave her a swift kiss in a silent thank you.

Joey was forming the kids into a chain for leading them across the street when she realized Gretchen had come with them. She hadn't seen Gretchen in years, not since—not since her abortion in senior year, Joey realized with a pang.

Gretchen had not forgotten. “So you and Pacey are back together,” she said noncommittally as she watched her nieces and nephews scramble up monkey bars and down slides.

“Is that a problem?” Joey asked just as carefully.

“No, not at all. Pacey loves you so much. I'm happy for you both. It's just...you never told him, did you?”

“If I recall, you were the one who warned me Pacey couldn't handle any more stress.”

“No, yeah, you're right, but...” Gretchen's brow furrowed, an expression which made her resemble her brother a little bit. “How can you hope to have a successful relationship with this secret hanging between you?”

Joey was ashamed to admit how little she thought about it anymore. She felt Gretchen would judge her somehow. She deflected. “You really think now, with everything going on with his father, I should march into that hospital and tell Pacey that two years ago I had an abortion? Or were you planning to tell him for me?”

“I'm not your enemy, Joey. I want what's best for you. And for Pacey. But I'm not sure pretending it never happened is the way to go here.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but that's my mistake to make.”

Gretchen threw her hands up. “Fine. Forget I said anything.” She started walking back to the hospital, then turned back to add, “It is kind of you to be here for him through this.”

Joey shrugged. “I love him.”

“I know. That's why I'll try and forget what happened, too.”

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey's sophomore year at Worthington was infinitely harder than her freshman one. To begin with, Andersen was no longer a motionly challenged infant, content to stay by her side while Joey studied. As he learned to walk, he showed he had inherited more from his father than his blue eyes, in a relentless determination to be everywhere and make a mess of everything. Studying had to be confined to the hours when her son was sleeping or when she overcame her reluctance—they were already watching Andersen while she was at work and at class—and begged one of her roommates to mind him for a few hours.

Joey was exhausted all the time. Between work, school, and parenting, she was lucky to manage four hours sleep a night. More than once, she fell asleep over her studies. Her grades slipped.

With the fall in her academic standing came worry about losing her scholarship, something she could ill-afford to do. The windfall from Dawson was gone. Even with work, financial aid, and scholarships, Joey was barely making ends meet. The first time she had to tell Mrs. Ryan her share of the rent would be late was one of the most humiliating moments of her life. The second time wasn't any easier.

Near the end of May, Jen made the startling announcement that Grams had cancer. Joey hadn't even begun to process that horrifying bombshell when Jen dropped another one. They were moving to New York to be closer to Jen's mother and the best medical care that money could buy. Jack was going with them; they were both transferring to NYU.

“I know it's a lot to take in all at once. But I hope you'll consider coming with us, too, Joey. You and Anders have become like family. To all of us, Grams included.”

Joey promised she would think it over. The girls hugged and cried for a very long time.

~*~

**I.**

Three months into newlywed bliss—which did not feel significantly different from the day-to-day grind of life before, much to Joey's relief—Jen and Grams sat Pacey and Joey down at the kitchen table. Even if Mrs. Ryan had not warned them of bad news, the puffiness of Jen's face and Grams' red eyes would have given it away. 

Joey had been suspicious before this, what with Mrs. Lindley's sudden visit. Dread curled like a sleeping viper in her gut. “What's wrong?” she asked, holding tightly to Pacey's hand under the table.

“I have cancer.” Grams was never one to sugar-coat. 

Those three words rang like a death-knell in Joey's head. She was ten years old again, cuddled in her mom's arms and hearing them for the very first time. She burst into tears. Pacey reached for her, but she threw herself into Mrs. Ryan's arms instead.

“I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry,” Joey kept repeating, while Mrs. Ryan stroked her hair as if Joey was the one in need of comfort. The way her mother had all those years ago.

“It's all right, Josephine. I'm in God's hands.”

“And the doctors, right, Grams?” said Jen, with the slightest trace of irritation. “At the end of the school year, Grams, Jack and I are moving to New York to live with my mom and get Grams the medical care she needs.”

Joey pulled away, looking from Grams to Jen and back again. “You're leaving?” Pacey's hand covered her back in a silent display of sympathy.

“We have to. It's the only way to make it work financially. Jack and I will transfer to NYU, and Mom can help take care of Grams. The only problem is...”

“You need to sell the house,” Pacey finished when Jen struggled for words.

“Not necessarily,” said Grams. “If you two want to keep it and are able to find roommates to help you take over the payments, I would be happy to leave it in your hands. We have been rather a happy little family here.” She squeezed Joey's hand on the tabletop.

Joey felt another sob in her throat and choked it back. The last things Grams needed was to see people grieving as if she were already gone. “Yes, we have.” She tried to control the quaver in her voice.

“So think about it and let us know.” Jen's tone was no-nonsense, but she looked as if she, too, was fighting back tears. “If you're going to move, we'll need to contact a realtor.”

Joey didn't know how they could be expected to think about something so prosaic at a time like this, but Pacey said, “We'll talk about it and give you an answer soon.” Joey was prepared to snap at him for his selfishness, but then he stepped around her to kneel by Mrs. Ryan's chair. He took her smooth, papery hands in both of his. “You just concentrate on getting better, okay? Anders is going to need his Grams for a long time to come. We all are.” He kissed the top of Grams' head as he stood.

Jen rose as well and pulled Pacey into a hug. She buried her face in his chest. Pacey rested one hand on Jen's blonde head and held her close with the other. Joey didn't begrudge her friend the embrace. She knew from long experience there was no safer place to cry than Pacey's arms.

~*~

“So we should talk about the house,” Pacey said that night, after Joey had recovered from her own breakdown.

“I don't want to think about that yet.”

“Neither do I, but we owe it to Grams and Jen to give them an answer as soon as possible.”

Joey sighed. “You're right. I know you're right. It just seems stupid and inconsequential compared to everything else.”

“At the moment it does, but shelter, it turns out, ranks pretty high on the hierarchy of needs.”

Joey rolled her eyes at Pacey's halfhearted attempt to insert humor into the conversation. She wasn't ready to find anything funny yet. “So we should probably move, right? We don't have that many friends in Boston, and I would not feel comfortable living with strangers with Anders—” She glanced over at their sleeping son in his crib and grabbed Pacey's arm. “Pacey, with Jen and Mrs. Ryan leaving, who's going to watch Anders?”

“I had some thoughts on that. Gretchen is graduating next month, but she wants to stick around Boston while Dawson finishes film school. If she were one of our roommates, between the three of us, we could probably arrange our schedules so Anders always has someone home.”

Joey acknowledged that was a pretty great idea, Gretchen being one of the few people outside this house to whom she would entrust her son. They both loved Pacey's sister; living with her would be fun. “Still leaves us with two roommates to find, though.”

“One, actually.”

“You have someone else in mind?”

“No, but it's about time Anders had his own room, don't you think? I figure, if we are going to stay here, we could move down to the master bedroom and give Andersen Jen's room beside it. It will mean a larger share of the rent, but with my promotion and your better financial aid package, we can swing it.”

Joey shook her head, gazing at her husband in disbelief. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with Pacey Witter, irresponsible slacker extraordinaire? How did you think all this through in a couple of hours?”

Pacey shrugged. “The Anders thing has been on my mind for a while. I'm terrified that one day I'll forget to lock the baby gate and he'll go tumbling down the stairs headfirst. He's almost old enough for a bed, and, to be totally honest, I've started getting a creepy feeling he's going to wake up some night while we're having sex, and the poor kid's going to be scarred for life.”

Joey burst out laughing. “I wondered why your libido had disappeared the last few weeks. Good to know you're not tired of me already.”

“I will _never_ be tired of you, Potter,” he said and confirmed the statement with the heat in his eyes and a scorching kiss.

~*~

Their second roommate was not hard to find. Joey was catching Audrey up on events at lunch a few days later, and Audrey jumped at the spare room.

“I want it. I'll even make up any deficit in the bills.”

“You wouldn't have to do that.”

“Please. It will be worth it to spare myself a summer at home and the inevitable, chemical-driven, downward spiral that would then ensue.”

Joey thought Pacey would be thrilled when she told him the news after work that night, but his smile was weak and his “That's great” decidedly less than enthused.

“What's the matter? I thought you liked Audrey.”

“I do. It's not that. It's roommate _numero uno_. I talked to Gretchen today.” Pacey helped Anders build a block tower and did not look at Joey.

“She doesn't want to live with us?”

“No, she does. But she wants Dawson to move in, too. Apparently, they've been talking about living together for a while now.” He shot Joey what he obviously thought was a surreptitious glance before rebuilding the tower Anders smashed. 

Joey rolled her eyes. Would he never be over this insecurity? She left her homework at the desk and sat on the floor behind Pacey. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she kissed the side of his temple. “And what's so bad about that? They can have our attic. It's sweltering in summer, freezing in winter, and—I can testify from experience—perfect for a couple just starting out.” Joey trailed kisses along Pacey's ear and jaw, reminding him without words how much she loved him.

Anders knocked over his tower with a crash and a laugh. 

Pacey dutifully stacked the blocks again. “You don't think it will be weird? My sister and your first love living upstairs, in our old room?”

“Compared to some of the stuff we've endured over the last ten years, I'd say it sounds par for the course. And a few facts you seem to have forgotten: Dawson is our lifelong best friend, he makes your sister happy, and he may have been my first love, but he is not my true love.” Joey placed a kiss at the corner of his mouth, the furthest she could reach unless Pacey turned his head to face her.

He didn't. Instead, he kept his eyes on their son, but he took Joey's hand in his, brought her palm to his mouth and kissed it. “I love my life, Jo—our life. That's not something I ever pictured myself being able to say, but it's true. I don't want anything to screw it up.”

“Who's the one with the irrational fears now?” she teased, a cover for how his words touched her. “Pace, I don't care if we have Dawson for a roommate, but I also don't mind finding a smaller place. Either way, we're going to be okay.”

“O-tay!” echoed Anders—his new favorite word—and toppled his tower again.

“Okay.” Pacey laughed and swept the boy up in a tickle-filled hug.

~*~

Pacey and Dawson went out drinking one night the next week. Joey didn't know what they talked about, but when Pacey stumbled into bed in the early hours of the morning, reeking of beer, he told her, “They're moving in,” before he passed out.

Joey was almost irritated with how easily the roommate situation was resolved. It had been a welcome distraction from Mrs. Ryan's illness and the mass exodus to New York. Now, there was no avoiding the steadily growing piles of boxes or the fast-approaching moving day.

Joey, Jen and Jack studied for finals in between packing and nostalgia-driven conversations. Jen had taken to crying every time she held Anders; Joey didn't even know how to explain all these changes to her son. “Gam-Gam”—his name for Grams—had been Andersen's very first word.

Dreading the day did nothing to delay it. Long before Joey was ready, the school year was over, and they were saying tear-filled goodbyes to their friends. Anders, not understanding but stressed by the changes, was impossible on moving day. Joey wasn't much better. Pacey tried to comfort them both, while handling the mundane details of moving and bidding his own farewells. He promised Jen they would visit New York the first chance they got, but that might not be until Christmas.

There was a week between their old roommates' moving out and the new arrivals. Joey took the week off work to care for Anders and to scrub the house top to bottom. The empty rooms were painful reminders of their departed friends. Moving their furniture into Mrs. Ryan's room felt almost sacrilegious. 

They bought Anders a toddler bed to replace his crib. But getting him to sleep in his new room alone was a sleep-depriving, tantrum-filled nightmare. It didn't help that Joey had a bout of separation anxiety herself, and Pacey was never a good disciplinarian.

All in all, it was a relief when Dawson, Gretchen and Audrey arrived to fill some of the empty spaces in the house. Anders loved his Aunt Gretchen almost as much as she loved him, which distracted him from his constant pleas for Gam-Gam. 

Gretchen worked at a record store; she, Pacey, and Joey did some schedule-juggling to make sure one of them was free to watch Anders at all times. Audrey had nothing to do with her summer and volunteered to watch the “little monster,” but her unease around children combined with her general irresponsibility made her a last-resort babysitter. Dawson also expressed willingness to help when he could, but he was filming a movie with some friends from school, and his schedule was subject to variance.

Still, Joey felt relieved that Anders had so many people to look out for him and grateful for the kindness of their friends. She could never have managed on her own.

~*~*~

**II.**

The last few months of school plodded by. Joey didn't see Pacey again. She told herself he was off on another sailing adventure, told herself she didn't care.

Jack and Jen had fallen almost entirely out of her orbit, though she did hear the sad news of Mrs. Ryan's cancer diagnosis. They were all moving to New York after the school year for her treatments.

Audrey made it through rehab, but was staying in L.A. She was transferring to USC next year, willing to brave her parents in light of this new relationship with Dawson. Audrey and Dawson both called often; they sounded happy.

Joey kept dating Eddie. He could be sullen and taciturn, angry and critical, but he could also be earnest and surprisingly sweet. She learned to relax with him; he learned how to make her body fall apart. He asked her to backpack through Europe with him. She said yes.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

With Mrs. Ryan leaving and selling the house, Joey's future studies at Worthington had become untenable. Losing both her place of residence and her free childcare would take her financial situation from barely scraping by to deep in the hole.

Joey had loved New York the one time she visited it. More than that, she loved Jen and Jack and Grams. She knew the long, hard fight they were up against; knew with painful intimacy the grief of losing it. She wanted to be there for Mrs. Ryan and especially for Jen, who had always been there for her and now might need her just as badly.

But Andersen was the deciding factor. Joey couldn't inflict a hyperactive toddler on a household which would already be struggling with illness, family tension, and two full-time college students. Plus, Joey had spent years of her childhood with the pall of cancer hanging over it; she wouldn't inflict it on her son.

So when the moving van arrived to transport her roommates' belongings to New York, Bodie brought up the old, blue pickup to help Joey lug hers back to Capeside.

Joey wasn't giving up on her half-finished degree, but she was transferring to a much cheaper state school. She took up her old room at the B&B, while Andersen bunked with his cousin Alex. Bessie would watch Joey's son for her while she made the long commute each way for classes and worked as a waitress at Leery's Fresh Fish. 

Bessie said after all the times Joey watched Alexander for her in high school, it was only evening the score. But Joey knew all her big sister was doing for her and was grateful.

*~*~*~*

Joey took the summer off from classes while she navigated the paperwork nightmare of transferring and tried to shore up more scholarships and grants. She still had to work, but she found the break from studying decidedly welcome, especially in the extra time she got to spend with Andersen.

It was the first half of June, the summer opening before them, when Joey took her early-riser of a son on a sunrise walk along the beach. Joey loved this time of day; the air felt fresher, the world full of possibility. Andersen ran along in front of her, delighted with everything, from the dogs on their morning walks to the tiny, shiny pebbles. 

It was impossible not to think of Pacey on a morning like this, of all the mornings spent aboard _True Love_ , watching the sunrise, drinking in love and possibility along with their morning coffee. Joey hoped, wherever he was—somewhere in the south Pacific, according to his latest postcard—he was happy.

Perhaps it was because she was thinking of Pacey that Joey wasn't surprised to see his brother jogging along the sand toward them. Doug took in the scurrying toddler first, with a distant smile, not pausing his run. Then he noticed Joey following behind. He did a double take and stopped. He chest heaved as his lungs took in oxygen, while his eyes made a thorough policeman's survey of the little boy throwing rocks in the outgoing tide.

Andersen looked very much like his mother. He had her dark hair, high cheekbones, pointed chin, even her golden skin. He was going to be tall, like both his parents, but he carried the pudgy roundness of infancy. The only clearly distinguishable marks of his father were the round, blue eyes and the set of his mouth, both of which Doug might miss in the deceptive, early morning light.

“Good morning, Joey. I hadn't heard you were back in town.”

Joey kept her eyes locked on her son, not to avoid Doug's scrutiny, but because she knew how fast he could be gone. For now, Andersen was content, throwing pebbles and smashing seashells. “Hey, Doug. I only got back a few days ago. Guess I haven't been out much.”

“And who's this fine little fellow?” The question was a formality. Andersen's paternity might be a matter of doubt, but Joey's features were stamped all over him.

“My son, Andersen.”

The surprise on Doug's face was a testament to the trustworthiness of Joey's family and friends. Despite the odds, it had never become common gossip that Josephine Potter had followed in her sister's footsteps and had a child shortly after leaving high school.

Doug squatted on the sand, the better to observe the young boy. “If it's not too presumptuous to ask, who's the father?”

Joey could feel her heart thrumming against her chest. Doug wasn't family, nor a friend whose silence could be coerced. Doug was Pacey's brother; his first loyalty would be clear. Furthermore, he was a boy scout, who always did the right thing. 

She tried to answer and could not.

Doug glanced up at her. Whatever he saw in her face set his mouth in a harder line. “Pacey clearly doesn't know.”

“Are you...” Joey faltered, tried again. “Are you going to tell him?”

Doug's attention was fixed on the little boy. Andersen had discovered the gulls and was chasing them, his childish screams piercing the morning quiet. “I might, if I knew how to reach him. We fought before he left the last time, and I haven't heard from him since.”

It was on Joey's tongue to ask what the fight was about, but she bit it back. Not her business. “I'm sorry,” she said instead.

Doug stood, brushing sand from his legs. “Yes, well, wanderlust is apparently a Witter family trait only I didn't inherit. We haven't heard from my big sister in God knows how long. Kerry moved her kids to Canada. Even Gretchen packed up her car after graduation this spring and left with no known destination.”

Joey could hear the loneliness and disappointment in Doug's voice. What must it be like, to be one of five kids, and the only one their monstrous parents hadn't driven away? Joey knew where the blame lay for the mass Witter migration, and it wasn't a genetic propensity for travel. But Doug had always chosen to ignore the darker side of his upbringing, probably made easier for him by being the golden child.

But not entirely easy. He was alone, in more ways than one. Joey had long believed in the truth behind Pacey's half-jesting barbs. Pacey, the first one to jump to Jack's defense when he came out, made jokes about his brother's sexuality because his own inherently honest nature couldn't stand the hypocrisy which made every day of Doug's life a lie, whether it be whitewashing their family's dirty laundry or hiding his true nature even from himself.

It was pity for Doug's isolation which made Joey ask, “Would you like to meet your nephew?”

Doug grinned. “I would love that. Thank you.”

Joey called Andersen to her and introduced him to his Uncle Doug.

~*~

**I.**

Joey headed downstairs in the middle of the night. The light was on in the kitchen, and she found Dawson there, fully dressed, eating a bowl of cereal.

“Oh, hey, Joey, I just got in from a shoot. Didn't mean to wake you.”

“You didn't.” Joey tied Pacey's ratty blue bathrobe tighter around her and grabbed a glass from the cupboard. “It's called being a mom. When Anders was a baby, he woke up at two every night; now, it's habit. Two a.m. and I'm checking to make sure he's still breathing.”

Dawson chuckled as she poured herself some water. “It is surreal to me that little Joey Potter is a mom.” He shook his head. “I'm not sure I'll ever get used to it.”

Joey leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping her drink. “After changing a thousand diapers or so, it starts to feel pretty real.”

“I'll take your word for it.” He smiled. “It's nice to see you, Joey, even in the middle of the night. I've been here six weeks already, but it feels like I've barely been in your presence.”

“Well, I've got work and Anders, and you've been busy with the movie. How is that going, by the way?”

“Great! The best thing about film school is being surrounded by so many people who love the same things I love. I haven't made a horror movie since our little sea monster foray back in high school.”

“We're no longer counting Blair Witch Island?” Joey teased.

Dawson grimaced. “The less said about that the better.”

“Point taken. How's Audrey doing?”

“She was a most convincing Victim #4 once I got her to stop with the Southern accent. Definitely our best screamer. I may have her dub a couple of the other girls.”

“Just don't record while Anders is napping,” Joey warned. Dawson had turned the portion of the attic which had been Andersen's nursery into an editing studio.

“There you go, being a mom again.” Dawson rinsed out his empty bowl, then leaned against the counter beside her. “Do you ever wish you could be a kid again? Life was so much simpler then.”

“Your childhood was. For me, it's hard to remember a time when we weren't struggling to make ends meet. I was only ten when Mom got sick, and it was all downhill from there.”

“Yeah. I'm sorry, Joey. Stupid question.” Dawson stared at his feet, deflated somehow.

She sent him a wistful half-smile. “There was one bright spot, I guess. Just a short row across the creek was a lighted window and a safe, happy room behind it where the best friend in the world was always waiting for me.”

Dawson smiled back at her. “And always will be, Joey.”

Joey's smile fell. The way he said that was a little too layered. “How are things with Gretchen?” she asked pointedly.

“Good. Mostly good. It's...different living with someone as opposed to dating them. I'm discovering all kinds of new things about her. She has to have music playing when she falls asleep, and she steals the covers. Also, it's one thing to know someone is slightly untidy and another to live with it. But you probably went through all this when you and Pacey moved in together, right?”

Joey puzzled over how to answer. Dawson would not appreciate learning that Pacey was a snuggler or that they often read together before bed, nor was it his business. “Pacey and I had a sneak peek,” she said finally. “Those three months on a twenty foot sailboat. Hard to have many secrets after that. And moving in together was probably more stressful for Pacey than for me. I was six months pregnant, remember, and deeply hormonal. You should ask Pacey how he put up with me. Dirty socks on the floor is nothing compared to a midnight grocery run for peppermint ice cream and sauerkraut.”

Dawson laughed, the tension of a moment ago gone so fast Joey hoped she had imagined it. “On that horrifyingly unappetizing note, I am off to bed.” He paused in the doorway and turned back to her. “It was great talking to you, Joey. I've missed it. What do you say we reinstitute weekly movie nights for you, me and anyone else in the house who wants to join?”

“Sounds like a plan. If you don't mind waiting until Anders is in bed. Sorry, talking like a boring mom again.”

“I have applied innumerable adjectives to you over the years, Joey. 'Boring' has never been one of them. Night.”

“Night.” Joey rinsed her glass and turned off the lights, listening to Dawson's heavy tread up the stairs.

She tiptoed back to her room and slipped into bed beside Pacey. His bare back was facing her, so she wrapped her arms around his middle and pulled herself flush against him. She kissed his shoulder, laid her ear against his back, where she could hear the steady thump of his heart, and drifted into a contented sleep.

~*~*~

**II.**

Paris was perfect. Everything she'd ever dreamed. They went to the Louvre, and Joey fell in love with art again. They went to Notre Dame, and she said her first prayer in years. They went to the Eiffel Tower, and she thought, _I could fall in love with him_.

Germany was somber. What could they say to each other when touring concentration camps and war memorials? The castles annoyed Eddie, all that ancient wealth and power. Joey almost bought Pacey a tankard in a Munich beer hall, but then she remembered and put it back.

Madrid was tense. Eddie in the summer heat of Spain was Eddie at his very worst. He picked fights, and Joey walked away, went sight-seeing on her own. Joey thought of the cramped quarters of the _True Love_. She and Eddie wouldn't have lasted one hundred days there, wouldn't have lasted twenty.

Greece was where it fell apart. The sea was everywhere in Greece. It surrounded Athens, it passed through Corinth, it shone when she looked down from mountaintops. They had to sail across it to reach the fabled isles.

Santorini blue was the color painters used to capture the Mediterranean Sea in its rich, jeweled glory. It was a shade found nowhere else in the world. Joey had a small painting from there. Pacey brought it back from his second trip away. He told her the story; she told him he was wrong, it was the same color as his eyes.

On Rhodes, Joey sat alone by the sea. She remembered being six and Pacey dumping wet sand down her back, how she chased him and clobbered him and rubbed sand in his face until he apologized. 

She remembered being fourteen and lying on a raft between Dawson and Pacey, talking about their dreams for the future. Dawson, of course, was going to be a director; Joey, at the time, was leaning towards deep sea diver; Pacey thought for a moment and said, “ _Happy_.”

She remembered being seventeen and sailing away from her lifelong home, remembered Pacey's hand in her hair, as he asked, “ _Regrets already, Jo?_ ”

“No regrets,” Joey whispered to the Mediterranean Sea.

Eddie found her shortly after. He sat with his back to the sea, watching her. Finally, he said, “We should head back to the States. Classes are only a month away, and I'd like to spend some time with my family first.”

When they planned their trip, they weren't coming home until the last possible day.

“Good idea,” said Joey. “There are people I need to see again, too.”

~*~*~

The little bell chimed as Joey entered the old-fashioned office of Taylor & Sons. The place smelled of sawdust and turpentine, even though the work was done in dry docks and the buildings out back. Photographs of sailboats lined every inch of the walls, from crumbling black-and-whites, to Pacey's _Fiddlesticks_.

The younger Mr. Taylor was manning the desk. His round, red face broke into a smile at the sight of her. “Why, Miss Joey, haven't seen you here in a while.”

“Good to see you, too, Mr. Taylor.” She fidgeted, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Uh, is Pacey here?” She expected to be told he was sailing the Nile, or that he had disappeared without a trace.

“He's working out back. You remember the way?”

Joey nodded, not trusting herself to speak. She didn't move. She had dreamed of this moment since boarding the plane home, and now her feet felt cemented to the floor.

“Everything all right, Joey?”

She nodded again and made herself walk, one step at a time, through the beaded curtain, past the cluttered storeroom, out the back door. Across the small courtyard and into the workshop. She heard the familiar sound of paint being scraped off wood and followed the noise past several boats to one not much larger than the _True Love_.

Pacey had his back to her, all his attention on the boat.

“You missed a spot. By the rudder.”

He went very, very still, but didn't turn around. “No, I didn't. I haven't gotten there yet.”

“She's a beautiful boat. What's her name?”

“ _Mr. Pickles_. Sadly. And no, I don't know why.” Pacey peeled off his protective goggles before slowly turning to face her. The stubble she liked was there, so was the harder mouth. “I heard you were in Paris.”

“I was lots of places, but I came back. I thought you'd be sailing.”

“The old man's back finally gave out, so his wife's making him retire. I'm helping pick up the slack.” Pacey's eyes hadn't left her face since he turned around. “You look good, Potter.”

Joey flushed. “Thanks. So do you.”

“How's Eddie?”

Joey jumped, surprised. “How do you know about Eddie?”

“Lindley told me. Was she not supposed to? I didn't think it was a secret.”

“It wasn't. I guess I didn't think you'd ask. Eddie was fine, last I saw. We, uh, broke up.”

There was a more speculative look in Pacey's face now. He leaned back against the boat and crossed his arms. “Why are you here, Jo?”

“You came to me several months ago and tried to explain why. I'd like the chance to do the same if you'll let me.”

Pacey shrugged. “I've got nowhere else to be.” He was trying to be casual, but the tension in his body spoke the lie.

“I was scared, Pace. I was just as scared of losing you as you were of losing me. Every time you left, I was convinced you weren't coming back again.”

“I would always come home to you.”

“I didn't say it was rational, anymore than your persistent belief you don't deserve me is rational. It's how I felt. And that fear grew and grew, until it became so all-consuming it seemed easier to lose the fear and you together. So I kissed Eddie.”

“Wait. You're saying you kissed him specifically to engineer our breakup?”

Joey nodded. “Irrational, like I said. Also, the stupidest thing I've done in my life.”

“So if the point was to end things with me, why'd you start dating him?”

“I only did that after you came back and gave that absurd, beautiful speech.”

“Why?”

“Because it scared me! It scared me that I was still in love with you. It scared me that you might be right, and we had no future together. It terrified me to think of letting you back in my life only to lose you again.” Joey bit her lip at the coolness in his expression, but she had to finish what she came here to say. “I started running, and I ran halfway across the world only to come face-to-face with the same answer I always knew: Pacey, I love you. So I can't be let off the hook.”

Pacey swallowed hard. His gaze dropped from hers for the first time. He surveyed the sander, the worktable, the boat behind him. The muscles in his throat and jaw worked, as he began to say something, then bit the words back.

Joey played with her purse-strap and tried not to fidget, to be impatient or demand an answer she might not appreciate when it came. As long as Pacey remained silent, she could still hope for a happy ending.

“I, uh, I need to get back to work. I mean...thank you for...I don't know what to say here, Jo.”

Joey swallowed back a lump in her throat at the bleakness in his eyes. “Say what you feel. At the very least, you're entitled to that.”

“Am I?” Pacey laughed bitterly and swiped a hand down across his harder, older face. That was it, Joey realized, all the changes she'd noticed since their breakup. This year had aged Pacey; he wasn't the boy she fell in love with anymore.

“Of course you are. Just because I had my epiphany doesn't mean you're obligated to reciprocate. I wronged you, and I hurt you, and I'm sorry, but I know better than most that sorry is not always enough. Even,” Joey's voice cracked, but she forced herself to go on, “even loving someone isn't always enough. So if you want me out of your sight, I understand.”

“I don't want...I need time to think. Can you give me that?”

Joey nodded, relieved. _Time_ was a much kinder word than _goodbye_. “Yes, of course, I can do that. Maybe we can talk when I come back for classes? I'm only in town for the day. Need to pick up my books for next term, and see if I can find a job and an apartment for next year, or get the snafu with campus housing worked out. Apparently, I missed the deadline for my paperwork...” Joey trailed off, aware she was rambling. “Anyway, it's a whole thing.”

Pacey shifted the sander from one hand to the other, frowning. He seemed to be weighing the wisdom of saying something, but came to a quick decision and lifted his eyes once again to hers. “I could maybe help with both those problems. Mrs. Taylor used to run the office and front desk, but she retired with her husband. Jeff keeps saying he's going to hire someone to take over, but he hasn't yet. He's so overwhelmed he'd probably let you name your own hours and wages.”

Joey's heart leapt. Working in the same building was a far cry from never wanting to see her again. “Thanks. I'll talk to him on my way out.”

“You should talk to Andie about the other thing, the apartment.”

“Andie? Isn't she in Florence?”

“No, she's finally starting Harvard this fall. Looked me up a week or so ago when she arrived. Guess I'm the only person she knows in Boston. She mentioned getting an apartment and looking for roommates.”

Andie McPhee. Joey hadn't thought about her in years. Now, she was seized by the horrible notion that her own infidelity might have caused Pacey to view Andie's transgressions as ancient history. If he did have feelings beyond friendship for his ex, he hid it well. He had to look up her number on his phone to give it to Joey. 

His goodbye to Joey was awkward, but not cold, not, Joey felt, indifferent.

When Joey made it back to the office, Jeffrey Taylor was engaged with a new customer. He sounded every bit as knowledgeable as he was while talking with the WASP-ish stranger about the work he needed done, but when it was time to write up the paperwork, Jeff floundered.

Joey took advantage of the moment. “Hey, Mr. Taylor, can I help you with that?” It wasn't much more complicated than writing up an order at a restaurant, and the look of gratitude Jeff sent her assured Joey the job was hers if she wanted it.

By the time Joey stepped out of Taylor & Sons into the muggy heat of a Boston summer afternoon, she had gainful employment for her junior year of college. She started in two weeks, when she returned for classes, and would be manning the front desk and digitizing Mrs. Taylor's unique and antiquated filing system.

She grabbed the next bus headed toward Worthington and called Andie on the ride there. Andie sounded as cheerful as ever, more so when Joey mentioned the apartment. It was three bedrooms, Andie said, and so far she only had one other roommate, a poli-sci sophomore from Harvard. Joey let her hopes rise until Andie gave her the address. It was miles away from school, work, and her price range. She told Andie about the location issue without informing her about the humiliating financial reality. Andie understood, but insisted Joey drop by while she was in town anyway.

Joey's first stop on campus was the Worthington bookstore where she loaded up on all the texts—used where she could, new where she couldn't—for her new classes. She always made this trip alone. No need for her nearest friends and relations to see her geek out over schoolbooks.

Then it was onto the endless bureaucracy of the campus housing department. In addition to filling out the forms she hoped against hope would get her a last-minute dorm room, Joey jotted down the contact information of a few dozen roommates-wanted notices on the bulletin board.

With hours to fill before her night train back to Capeside, Joey went to see Andie after all. They had been friends once, and this frustrating apartment search had reminded Joey she didn't have many to spare.

“Joey!” Andie greeted her with a bright grin and tight hug. “Come in! Come in!” She beckoned Joey into the large, well-furnished living room. Joey was glad not to have asked something as embarrassing as the rent on this place.

“Hey, Andie, it's good to see you again. I thought Italy was never going to lose its grip on you.”

Andie laughed. “I don't think it ever will. But my competitive drive can only be silenced for so long, and I finally feel strong enough to do this.” She bustled happily around the pristine black-and-white kitchen, offering Joey tea, fruit, and cookies.

They talked for a while, Andie sharing stories from Florence, Joey from her two months abroad. She asked Andie how Jack and Jen were doing; Andie wanted an update on Dawson.

“We're going to have to acknowledge the Dumbo in the room, you know,” Andie said when their tea had gone cold.

“Pacey,” agreed Joey, spine stiffening. “What about him?”

“What happened with you two?”

“He didn't tell you?”

Andie shook her head. “Not a word. We've only talked a couple times on the phone and met once for drinks, but your name never crossed his lips. If it weren't for Jack, I wouldn't even know you broke up, but he didn't know why. Even Jen doesn't know. I wanted to ask Pacey, but, well, it didn't seem like he would appreciate the prying.”

Joey had been too ashamed to discuss her behavior with anyone, even Audrey, though Audrey had guessed enough. It wasn't until she returned from Europe that she poured out the whole story in a heartbroken confession to her sister. But she couldn't believe Pacey had kept it quiet as well. Was that to protect her or himself, she wondered? Or had Pacey kept himself so isolated he had no one to tell?

“Joey?” Andie prompted, and Joey snapped back to the moment. “You don't have to talk about it, if you'd rather not.”

“I kissed another guy,” Joey admitted in a rush.

Andie frowned but nodded. “I'm not surprised. The only time I've seen Pacey close to this devastated was when I...well, with us.”

Joey told Andie the whole story, not out of a desire to get their friend on her side—her side was distasteful to Joey now—but from certain knowledge that Andie, and Andie alone, could understand.

The perky blonde listened without smile and without interruption to the saga. When Joey finished, she said, “And that's how you left it? He's thinking about it?”

Joey nodded, clutching her empty mug between her hands. “I'm headed back to Capeside tonight, but I'll be back soon for the fall semester. I imagine we'll talk then.”

“I wish I could offer you more hope, Joey, but I have only my own experience with Pacey to draw on. He has a strong moral code, you know, despite its sometimes skewed nature, and infidelity is not something he can just forget.” Her mouth tipped in a sad smile. “Even his forgiveness made me feel guilty.”

Joey wanted to argue. It was only a kiss, she didn't sleep with someone else, she had explained her reasons. But in her heart, she feared Andie was right. “We should start a club, for women who screwed over Pacey Witter and lived to regret it.”

“Kind of an impossible acronym. We could call it the IW, Idiot Women.”

They both laughed, and Joey gathered her bags. She needed to catch her train.

Andie caught her arm by the door. “Don't put too much weight on what I said. Your relationship with Pacey is your relationship, not mine. I honestly believe he loved you more than anyone else in his entire life. Maybe that made the betrayal worse. But maybe he'll be more willing to trust again, or less willing to let you go.”

~*~*~

Ten days later, Joey worked up the nerve to call him. Pacey's greeting was wary, and she rushed to reassure him, “I'm not calling to pressure you about us. But I'm coming to Boston on Friday night to spend the weekend in a mad rush to find a room of my own, and I need a couch to crash on. And by a weird twist of fate, or maybe karmic justice, all my other friends have deserted Boston, and I have to beg you, the person who least owes me a favor.”

“What about Andie?”

“I asked. She's in New York this weekend, visiting Jack.”

“Okay. Sure. No problem. When's your train get in?”

Joey smiled into the phone. “You don't have to pick me up. I can grab a cab.”

“Save your money for the security deposit, Potter. What time?”

“Ten-thirty. Thanks, Pace, you're a lifesaver.”

“That's me, rescuer of damsels, carrier of luggage.”

Joey laughed, closing her eyes, savoring the flippant retort. God, she had missed everything about him.

~*~*~

True to his word, Pacey was there to greet her when Joey dragged her two suitcases off the train. She was bent nearly double from their weight and the pressure of her book-laden backpack and didn't see him until he swooped in and took possession of the heavy cases.

“Holy hell, Potter, if this is how you pack for a weekend, how'd you manage a summer in Europe?”

Pacey started making his way out of the station without waiting for a reply. Joey frowned, robbed of the chance for a real greeting, but hurried after him.

“Classes start on Monday. Even if, by some miracle, I find a place, Bessie and Bodie won't have time to bring me my stuff by then. So I brought everything I might conceivably need to sustain me in my homeless state. It's mostly books.”

“That explains the weight. I wondered for a minute if you'd brought bricks to construct your own shack on the quad.”

“It's not the worst idea I've ever heard,” Joey muttered as they stepped outside into the city-bright night. The air was heavy and humid, barely cooled from the day's late-summer misery. “I can't wait for fall.”

Pacey chuckled as he led the way to the vintage Mustang his father had gifted to him a few years earlier. “You always were one for scarves and layers. Me, I'd take this any day over the slow descent into freezing limbs and _Ethan Frome_ depression.”

Joey snorted. “I'm surprised you read _Ethan Frome_.”

Pacey popped the trunk of his car and hefted in her luggage. Joey threw her backpack in as well. He closed it with a bang and sent her a wicked grin. “Of course I did. Miss Jacobs taught it.”

Her good mood abruptly vanished, Joey stomped to the passenger door. Pacey's smile had died by the time he slid across the front seat and opened it for her, so she decided it would be bad form to hold a grudge. Especially when he was the one doing her a favor, and he had yet to mention the heart-exposing, possibly humiliating declaration of a few weeks back.

She tried to think of a new topic while Pacey pulled out of the parking lot. “So what's her name?”

The confused, and not at all guilty, look Pacey shot her was reassuring. “Huh? Whose?”

“This year's boat. My home for the weekend.”

“Oh! No boat. I've been living in the apartment above Taylors' since I got back. It's kinda shabby, no central air, so don't expect much. But I'm not paying much more than utility costs, and the ground under my feet is solid.”

In the darkness of the car, Joey frowned as she assimilated this information. Pacey no longer lived on a boat. What this good news, in that he was no longer subconsciously thinking about escape? Or bad, because he was turning his back on something he loved?

“I always thought you preferred the roll of the deck,” she said cautiously.

“Used to. Then it started keeping me awake nights, so it was time for a change.”

Joey couldn't bring herself to ask if Pacey's sudden insomnia and their breakup coincided. But she didn't need to. She knew.

~*~*~

Pacey's apartment had its own outside entrance. Joey trudged along after him with one suitcase, while he carried its heavier twin in his right hand, her red backpack over his shoulder, and unlocked the door with his free left hand. He flipped on a light, revealing a narrow, steep staircase with two doors at the top, the one to the left leading to Pacey's apartment over the shipwright's, the one to the right presumably leading to similar quarters over the Indian restaurant next door. The stairwell between the businesses carried an amalgam of all those scents, of turpentine and curry, sawdust and cooked cabbage, and beneath these, must and age and disuse.

All in all, Joey preferred the boats.

Pacey unlocked the door at the top of the stairs and turned on the light there as well, stepping to the side to let her pass. “Be it ever so humble.”

Joey's nose reacted first, to the smells of Lysol, bleach, and lemon that were the usual hallmarks of a home scrubbed in expectation of company. She felt some annoyance at the idea that she had been relegated to the same class as visiting family; she had years of exposure to Pacey's slovenly ways.

Then her eyes caught up, taking in the original wood floors, much scuffed through time, and the walls, once painted white, faded to a yellowish gray. She stood in the middle of a moderate-sized common room, separated from the kitchenette by a Formica-covered bar of a style popular in her grandmother's day. 

To say the room was sparsely furnished was to say that Dawson liked movies. A brown couch lined the wall beside her, a television and entertainment center—without videos or games—occupied the mirroring space on the opposite wall. A makeshift bookshelf ran against the far wall, made of four cinder blocks and two pieces of plywood. It contained Pacey's usual assortment of used paperbacks, pushed to two opposite sides—read and to-be-read, Joey knew. Two old, wicker stools pushed under the bar were the only other furniture.

“Spartan,” Joey said. “You take a vow of poverty and not tell anyone, Pace?”

“Guess I haven't spent much time fixing it up.” Pacey carried her bag down the hallway past the kitchen, flicking on another light as he went. “You can have my room. I changed all the bedding today, so it's clean, and I'm used to sleeping on the couch.”

Joey peeked in the first door, which he bypassed, and saw only sealed boxes haphazardly set around a small, empty bedroom.

Pacey turned left into the larger bedroom, this one with a bed, a dresser, an alarm clock, air conditioning unit in the window, and not much else. “Bathroom's right across the hall, towels are in the cupboard to the right. I don't know if you're hungry. There's cereal and chips, not sure what else, but we can stock up tomorrow after your apartment search, or maybe before. What time are your appointments?” 

Pacey deposited her suitcase by the dresser and let the backpack fall off his shoulder beside it. He seemed determined to look at neither Joey nor the queen-sized mattress. Given the sparsity of decoration, that left him nothing to do but deepen a scuff mark on the floor.

“First one is at nine, but I can take the bus. I didn't mean to commandeer your whole weekend.”

“No way I'm letting you go alone to places you've never been to meet people you only learned about through a public bulletin board.”

Joey felt defensive at Pacey's macho posturing. She slammed down her other suitcase. “Give me some credit. I've talked to them all on the phone and weeded out the crazies” Of the two dozen numbers she'd pulled, she was only going to check on four apartments. Most had already been snapped up, a few were out of her price range, and two she had eliminated for exactly the creep vibe Pacey feared.

“You can't always tell over the phone. Besides, I've got nothing else to do.”

“You could unpack some of those boxes, make it look like somebody lives here.”

Pacey's boot stopped moving. His eyes finally raised to hers. “Why does my apartment bother you so much?”

“Because! It doesn't look like you, it doesn't smell like you. You've lived here since March, and I can't tell if you're moving in or moving out. We hadn't been on _True Love_ a week before it felt like you'd lived there your whole life. You, you dominate a space, Pacey. Annoyingly so, sometimes. So wherever you've been the last six months, it hasn't been here.”

Joey expected Pacey to yell back. She almost wanted him to remind her it was her fault, all of it, his lack of a home, her lack of knowledge of his life. Pacey didn't yell; instead, he shrugged and pulled out the expressionless mask she hated. “I work. I wake up, and I work. I have lunch at work, I work, pick up dinner somewhere on the street, and then I work. I come up here when I'm exhausted enough to pass out; then I get up the next day and do it again. That scintillating enough for you, or should I invent lurid stories about picking up strippers and threesomes with girls in bar bathrooms?”

Tears pricked her eyes, but Joey forced them back. “It's not health—”

“No.” Now she saw it, the anger burning behind his eyes. “You don't get to analyze how I cope with it, Jo.”

Joey bit her lip, pushed her hair behind her ear, and nodded. “You're right. I'm sorry. I guess there's no reason to ask what you've decided about us, then, huh?”

“Honestly, I don't know what I'm thinking. I spent six months trying to regain my equilibrium without you, and you knocked me off-balance again in five minutes. I've tried telling myself all the things which worked after Andie—that you're not the one, things happen for a reason, it's harder to rebuild than to start over. I've asked myself if you could hurt me so badly while loving me, what will you do when you don't?”

Every point he made was fair and struck Joey like a knife between the ribs. She had spent most of her life arguing with Pacey, but she had no counterattack for this. “So you've stopped loving me?”

“No, but I've stopped _wanting_ to.”

The pain on his face was so raw and aching Joey couldn't stop the tears this time. She swiped them angrily away. “Why let me stay here then? Why pick me up and offer to escort me around town?”

“Well, for one, you sounded desperate, and you know me and my hero complex. For another, and you've picked up on this already, there's been a dearth of human interaction in my life lately. When all your friends deserted you for sunnier climes and greater metropolises, so did mine. In short, do I want to reunite with my cheating ex-girlfriend? Not so much. Do I want my one remaining, lifelong best friend out of my life? Not even a little.”

Joey forced herself to hold it together, to ignore the shards of a broken dream and cling to the one piece of solace he offered. “So friends?” She held out her hand to him.

And just like three years and a lifetime ago, when Pacey took her hand in his and said, “Friends,” the electric pulse running through her skin told her they were liars.


	7. Chapter 7

**II.**

Joey lay awake far too late that night, thinking about Pacey's words and about sleeping in his bed, about him on the other side of that door, but farther away than when oceans separated them. The alarm buzzed at seven, after a measly four hours of sleep, and Joey already knew it was going to be a terrible day.

She grabbed her shower bag and a change of clothes and headed for the bathroom. One peek down the hall revealed an empty couch. No lights were on. No one in kitchen or bathroom. Joey assumed Pacey had gone down to the workshop. If he wasn't here when she was ready, she would take the bus and go apartment hunting alone. She wasn't sure if Pacey's absence would be a relief or a disappointment.

Pacey's bathroom was as minimalist as the rest of his apartment. Clean in expectation of her visit, but dated, with peeling floral wallpaper and chipped tiles in the shower. A few towels, a few toiletries, nothing personal. 

She held back her tears only until she turned on the shower. Showers were tailor-made for masking any crying short of actual sobs, and Joey had been fighting her heartbreak since the night before. She didn't want to cry in Pacey's hearing. He would feel guilty, and he shouldn't. This was her fault. In her stupidity, she had pushed away the man she loved, and she couldn't have him back just by asking.

So she cried.

~*~*~

Joey smelled bacon even before she left the bathroom. She stumbled the few steps to the kitchen. Pacey was frying bacon on the stove, the counter was covered with grocery bags, and two newly unsealed boxes on the floor revealed Pacey's hodgepodge of kitchen utensils and dinnerware.

“What is all this?”

“Morning, Jo. I couldn't sleep, so I got the shopping done early. I remembered how much you love bacon, but then realized I'd never unpacked my frying pan. There's cereal and yogurt and orange juice somewhere in that pile. Help yourself.”

Joey busied herself putting away the groceries in the nearly empty fridge and cupboards. Pacey finished frying the bacon. Then they both rifled through the boxes, looking for plates and silverware. Joey itched to unpack and turn Pacey's kitchen into a functional one, but she remembered her appointments and sat down on the stool next to Pacey for breakfast.

She let out a happy sigh after her first bite. “Thanks, Pace. You take good care of me.” _I wish you cared as much for yourself_ , she wanted to add, but didn't.

Pacey's answering smile was sardonic. “Had to make sure you have a good meal in you, in case the slums and ghettos rob you of your appetite.”

In the moment, Joey thought Pacey was joking; a few hours later, she wasn't so sure.

The first apartment they visited was a basement studio less than a mile from work. The tiny, brown-haired girl who answered Joey's knock nearly jumped out of her skin looking up at them. “Who's that?” she asked, saucer-wide eyes fixed on Pacey.

“Are you Michelle? I'm Joey, this is my friend, Pacey—” Pacey offered the girl a kind smile, shoulders slumped and knees bent in an effort to seem less intimidating. “I called about your roommate ad?”

“I don't want a male roommate.” Michelle guarded the door zealously; with her high voice and small stature, she made Joey think of a mouse protecting its hole. 

“No, I know. Me either. Pacey's here as my friend. He has his own place. May I, may we come in?”

Reluctantly, Michelle opened the door wide enough to let them pass. “My bed's over there,” she gestured to a small area separated by a worn Chinese screen. “I thought you could have that corner.” There was one bare corner in the room, which hardly looked big enough for Joey's bed, let alone desk and dresser. The common area consisted of a couple ratty chairs and Michelle's cluttered desk. The “kitchen” was a sink, a mini-fridge, and a microwave.

“Um, where's the bathroom?” Joey asked.

In answer, Michelle pulled back a shower curtain, hidden behind the front door, revealing a toilet. “I shower at the Y,” she said.

Joey blinked rapidly as they stepped back into the sunshine. Not even ten o'clock and the day was already sticky with humidity. “Well, at least it was cool in there.”

“That's 'cause it's a crypt. You can't possibly live there, Jo.”

“There's three more places to see.” Joey tried to stay positive as they walked back to Pacey's car. “And it doesn't have to be perfect. It just has to be livable until my name comes up on the campus housing waiting list.”

“Which will be when, before or after your name is an item in the metro news?” Pacey unlocked and opened the passenger door for her.

“Impossible to say, according to the apathetic and unhelpful string of people I spoke to. Could be next week, could be never. But don't worry, I've been assured it's all my own fault for not getting paperwork in on time.”

As he started up the Mustang, Pacey squeezed her hand. Somehow, the simple gesture made everything seem not so dire. But he pulled away immediately, whereas before he would have kept the connection even as he drove. “So where to next?”

Next turned out to be a loft where they could not only smell rodents, they could see rat droppings on the floor. After that, it was a water-damaged, sewage-smelling, mold-infested haunt of nightmares.

Joey left the last apartment with her faith in mankind—never overflowing—utterly demolished. “Well, at least that apartment was nice, and I would have my own room.”

“An oasis, perfumed by the smell of weed and poppies.”

Joey played devil's advocate. “She said it wasn't hers, just her boyfriend's.”

“That would be the charmer with the glazed eyes and the track marks up his arm, sitting next to the dime bag. Which I'm sure was filled with baby powder.” Pacey seemed unaccountably angry, almost yanking the door off its hinges when he opened it for her.

Joey placed a soothing hand on his arm, then quickly dropped it. “It's okay, Pace. Of course I'm not going to stay there.”

“What are you going to do?”

Joey shrugged. “Commute in from Bessie's, grab more numbers from the notice board, pray for a rash of no-shows in campus housing.” Pacey still frowned down at her. “It's not your problem, Pace. You've been great, letting me stay, accompanying me through today's horror show.”

Pacey didn't respond as he crossed to his side of the car. They started the drive back to Taylor & Sons in silence, Pacey brooding, Joey too despondent herself to pull him out of it.

They were two blocks from Pacey's apartment, stopped at a red light, when he said, “You can stay with me.”

Joey jerked her head around to face him. Pacey's eyes were glued to the signal light, his expression unreadable. “I can't—”

“Sure you can. It's cheap, it's right upstairs from work, I have a spare bedroom, and if you're worried about the awkward, we've already established I'm never there.”

The idea of living with Pacey was so universally appealing Joey knew she had to resist it. “It would only rub salt in the wounds, Pace, seeing each other all day, every day.”

“Maybe,” Pacey admitted, as he reached their street and looked for a parking space. “But it's better than losing sleep thinking about you breathing in mold or arrested in a drugs bust.” He found an empty space and parallel parked with the kind of ease Joey, with her limited driving skills, could only envy.

Joey didn't answer right away. Pacey didn't expect her to, leading the way to his door without a glance in her direction. She thought of the difficulties in living with an ex-boyfriend, one she still loved, one who wanted to stop loving her. No matter what Pacey said, it would be awkward, and it would be painful. But it had been both staying friends with Dawson after their breakups, and Joey never regretted that. 

Deep-seated practicality decided the matter for her. Two hours on the train everyday and tickets which consumed half her income were more immediate evils than any looming emotional drama with Pacey.

He started pulling out sandwich fixings as soon as they entered the apartment. His head was buried in the fridge when she told him, “If you're sure it's okay, I'd like to stay.”

Pacey turned around, his arms filled with mayonnaise and mustard, ham and cheese. He smiled. “I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't sure.”

Over lunch, they talked about practical arrangements, how to split expenses, what furniture Joey should ask Bessie and Bodie to bring. Pacey said he would unpack some of his boxes and move the rest to his closet. He insisted on Joey staying in his room until her stuff arrived. 

While Pacey washed up the mess from breakfast and lunch, Joey indulged herself by unpacking his kitchen boxes. Every item placed in a cupboard or drawer made it feel a little more like home. Pacey's gentle mockery of her compulsive, neat freak tendencies only added to the feeling of belonging.

After the kitchen was clean, Pacey turned his attention to the boxes in the spare room which would soon be hers. Joey volunteered to help, but the quickness with which he rejected her offer told her there were items he didn't want her to see in them. Either memorabilia of their relationship or porn, Joey mused. Probably both.

She took a walk by the harbor instead. When the heat proved unbearable, she found a shaded bench and called her sister.

“Potter Bed & Breakfast,” Bessie answered in her syrupy customer service voice.

“Hey, Bess. It's me.”

“Hiya, sis. How goes the hunt?”

“Well, the actual search was a slough through Upton Sinclair-levels of urban horror, but the bright side is after seeing it with me, Pacey invited me to live with him.”

“So you two are back together? That's great! I knew it would all work out.”

Joey bit her lip, listened to the waves slapping against the wharf's pilings. “We're not. Pacey doesn't think...well, whatever. Romance is dead, but friendship lives on, and his apartment has a spare bedroom.”

“Oh, Jo.” Joey could hear her sister's pain and empathy in those two small words. “Are you sure that's a good idea? Cohabitating with an ex you're still in love with...that's a Neil Simon play waiting to happen.”

“Probably. But it's the best of a bad set of options. With any luck, I'll get that call from campus housing within a few weeks.”

“What if he brings another girl home? Have you thought about that? Or if you want to bring a guy back to your place?”

The whole idea made Joey's stomach roil. She had spent four months with Eddie; it was unrealistic to suppose Pacey had been celibate during that time. But they had been out of each other's sight. To see Pacey with another girl, touching her, kissing her...Joey shut her imagination down cold. 

“Pacey is too considerate to do that to me,” she told her sister, trying to convince herself as well. “Whatever he does, he'll keep out of our apartment, and I'll do him the same favor.” An easy promise to make as she had no intention of dating anyone else.

“You should put that in the lease,” Bessie responded wryly, but then she sighed. “I hope it all works out for you, sis. I really do.”

“Thanks. Me, too. Any chance you could bring up my stuff tomorrow?”

“On a Sunday? Not a chance. You know that's our busiest day.” Joey heard the fluttering of registry pages. “How about Thursday? We only have one guest, and it's a business trip. He's sure to check out early.”

“Thursday could work. My last class is out by noon, so anytime after that is fine. I'll probably be working, but that's just downstairs. I'll see you through the window.” She gave her sister the address, and they said their goodbyes.

Joey was sweltering by now, sweat beading at the back of her neck and prickling behind her knees. She made her way back to the moderately more acceptable temperature of the apartment. Pacey was setting up his Nintendo64. An afternoon of the mindless fun of _Super Smash Bros._ sounded preferable to diving into the literature of the Renaissance or negotiating the future of romantic complications.

“I give you fair warning, I take no prisoners,” said Pacey, sounding like his old, cocky, careless self.

Joey, whose love of video games started and ended with _Tetris_ , had no illusions about how this would go down. “The first game or two, maybe. But then your white knight complex will kick in, and you'll feel guilty about beating up on the poor, defenseless female. At which point, you'll become more concerned with giving me pointers than playing yourself, and I will rise to victory.”

“You'd really be content with a pity win, Potter?”

“I'll take what I can get, Pace. I'll take what I can get.”

*~*~*

 **III.**

Sheriff Witter made a full recovery, though his wife started pressuring him to think about retirement. Pacey and Joey returned to Boston and the normal tenor of their lives. Pacey and his father hadn't mended their broken relationship, but real life rarely had the kind of closure Dawson's favorite films taught them to expect.

Shortly afterward, they were treated to even more bad news. Mrs. Ryan was diagnosed with breast cancer. Grams, Jen, and Jack were all moving to New York. Dawson, after much discussion, elected to stay in Boston and finish film school. He and Jen were going to attempt the long distance thing, but both were cognizant of their low chance of success.

Joey spent the summer living with Pacey and working more hours at the restaurant, with only a few joint trips back to Capeside. He suggested she make the arrangement permanent, but Jack's empty room had been commandeered by Dawson's annoying friend Oliver, so Joey politely—or less than politely—declined. Audrey returned that fall, clean, sober, happy, and looking for a roommate. Much as she loved Pacey, Joey did not regret the day she left the Pit behind.

~*~*~

**II.**

Once school started, Joey barely saw Pacey, except for the rare moments he stepped into the office and the Thursday afternoon he helped Bodie unload Joey's things. He was still asleep when she left for class in the morning—Joey loved early classes and built her schedule to be done by noon every day—and he didn't come home to bed until after she was in her room. Joey thought this was intentional. Twice she heard the gentle twist of the door and considered heading out to speak to him, but she chickened out. What could she possibly say?

She decided it wasn't a matter of saying, but doing. She went to the corner market, bought noodles and garlic, tomatoes, ground beef and a bottle of wine. Joey was no chef, but spaghetti was enough of a staple in the Potter household even she couldn't screw it up. 

When everything was ready, she made the circuitous way back to the boathouse. She followed the solitary light to where Pacey was installing a new rudder on the _Safe Bet_.

“Come have dinner with me.”

Pacey blinked up at her in surprise before returning to his work. “Thanks, Jo, but I really want to get this done.”

“I know for a fact Mr. Daklos won't be back for that boat for two more weeks. And I made spaghetti. It's getting cold.”

“I already started...” 

Joey could sense him weakening. She played her trump card. “There's snickerdoodles and ice cream for dessert.”

Pacey placed his tools on the floor and jumped to his feet. “Since you went to all the trouble...”

Joey smiled. “I thought you'd say that.”

“What's the occasion?” Pacey asked as they wound their way back up to the apartment.

“Jeff says I'm officially trained. Which means he can go back to helping you with the boats, and you can stop working eighteen hour days.”

Pacey halted on the landing outside their door, posture wary. “I choose to work, Jo. I like it.”

Joey pushed open their door and walked in without waiting for him. She trusted the smells of garlic and herbs would draw him in her wake, no matter his reluctance. “You'll kill yourself, Pace, or you'll burn out. Either way, it's unsustainable.” She sank onto one of the bar stools and uncovered her plate but couldn't swallow a bite until Pacey slid onto the seat beside her.

They were halfway through the meal when Pacey admitted, “I don't know what to do with myself when I'm not working.”

“Do the same things you always used to do. Watch hockey, read books, play video games, talk to your friends, to me, to Andie. Go to a bar. Meet people. Go sailing. Spend a weekend in Capeside, visit Doug, Gretchen, maybe even your parents. There's more to you than this job; there always has been.”

Pacey sent her a bemused smile. “There's a distinct possibility you've thought about this too much.”

“I can't stop thinking about it,” Joey muttered, twisting noodles around and around her fork.

“Why?”

“Because it's my fault!” The fork clattered against the plate as Joey dropped it. “It's bad enough I wrecked us, but I'll never forgive myself for wrecking _you_.”

Pacey's hand was halfway to her shoulder when he dropped it to his side. “First of all, it's not all your fault. Do I need to reiterate the list of ways in which I was a crap boyfriend? We didn't work out. It happens. And yeah, I've been pretty low about that, but I also like what I do. Building and fixing boats...there's a feeling of accomplishment in that and a sense of control I've needed.”

“And secondly?” Joey prompted when Pacey stopped talking to devote himself to the remnants of his dinner.

“Secondly, you're right. It's time for me to come out of my cave. But the same goes for you.”

“Me? Did you miss the part where I spent the summer in Europe?”

“Yeah, you did, didn't you? Good for you, Potter. But since you got back, your social life has consisted of immediate family, phone calls with one ex-boyfriend and worrying about another, am I right?”

Joey fidgeted on her stool. “Not entirely. I had tea with Andie. Once. Okay, I take your point. We've both taken our misanthropic behavior to intervention levels.”

“A pact, Potter. I'll quit working by six o'clock nightly and spend at least one night a week outside this block, if you'll make some new friends.”

Joey scowled. “We've spent a lifetime reinforcing each other's belief that people suck. Why reinvent the wheel now?” But in the end, she agreed.

~*~*~

Junior year of college wasn't the best time to make new friends. Normal people did that as freshmen. But Joey's only new college friend had been Audrey, and all the credit for that went to the campus housing department, which had more recently taken to ruining her life.

There was a girl, Lauren, from some of Joey's English classes, with whom she had always been distantly friendly. After some overtures from Joey, Lauren invited her into a study group. Joey also took some time to hang out with Andie and her roommates. It wasn't a social revolution, but it was good enough.

Pacey kept his promise, too. Almost every night, they shared dinner together. Some nights—a lot of them at the beginning, fewer and fewer as time went on—he headed out afterwards. He didn't tell her where; Joey didn't ask. Even though it hurt her, she knew it was better for him than living down in the boathouse. The nights he was home, he usually grabbed a paperback from his stash and read while Joey studied.

Joey had known Pacey almost her whole life and had never discovered his love of reading until the summer on _True Love_. He hated assigned reading, any kind where he might be tested on comprehension or forced to write a paper on symbolism. But, provided there was no chance it would be to his educational or intellectual benefit, Pacey was a voracious reader—gruesome horror stories, gritty detective yarns, fantasy adventure sagas...

Once, last year, he'd found a trashy romance novel stuffed under Joey's bed. She had been red-faced with mortification, but Pacey only laughed for a moment, before settling in and reading it aloud with the same devoted attention he gave to every book she'd forced on him. Her embarrassment melted away listening to the soothing cadence of his voice, and she cuddled close beside him. Until he came to the first sex scene, when, despite the amused tremors in Pacey's reading of the florid prose, Joey became so turned on, she threw the book across the room and ravished him.

Joey tried not to think about that night anymore, tried not to remember a hundred days and nights on _True Love_ or the thousand since. She focused on the here and now—school, work, friends old and new—and on how grateful she was to have Pacey in her life in any capacity. They had regained some form of their old back-and-forth banter, which only occasionally turned awkward and was only painful when Joey compared it to what she had lost.

The one ritual of the day they never enacted was saying good night. When one of them was ready for bed, they disappeared without word into the off-limits world of their bedroom. As far as Joey was concerned, this omission gave them the illusion of normalcy. A world where Pacey slept on one side of a wall and Joey on the other had become routine, but going to sleep without his arms around her could never feel truly right.

~*~*~

“Question for you, bunny: on a scale of one to nuclear, how much do Dawson's parents hate me?”

Joey closed her book, happy to take a break from studying and live in Audrey's world for a while. “Well, they've only met you once, but you did steal drugs from their medicine cabinet and insult their beloved son right in front of them.” She carried the phone into her room, so she wouldn't disturb Pacey's reading. “So I'd say less mushroom cloud, more stinkbomb. Why?”

“Dawson wants me to fly home with him for Thanksgiving, and I'm trying to decide whether my sobriety would be more threatened by debasing myself in front of my boyfriend's parents, or facing my own without a third party present.”

“Well, if it sways the balance at all, I'm going to be at the Leerys, and I'd love to see you.”

“Awww, bunny, I'd love that, too. But won't I look even worse next to their dream daughter-in-law? All the gentle hints that now you and Pacey are kaput, Dawson should dump the mess that is me and reclaim his destiny.”

“Mitch and Gail aren't like that. Gail might get a little passive-aggressive, but only because he's her baby boy. And I'm confident you can stand your own against her.”

“As opposed to bouts with my own mother.” Audrey sighed. “Okay, you've convinced me. See you at Thanksgiving. Now, your turn. Any dirty tales of roommate lust to relate?”

Joey laughed despite herself. “Nope. We're approved for general audiences around here.”

“What!? Not one time has he emerged from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped around his waist? Washing dishes has never turned into a bubble fight? No backrubs at the end of a long day leading to a happy ending?”

“We have successfully avoided those cliche-filled waters, I'm almost happy to say.”

Audrey made an untranslatable noise of annoyance. “At least tell me you've had fantastic, anonymous sex with a beautiful stranger you met at a club or—knowing you—the library?”

“Oh, constantly. You know me, I'm all about meaningless sexual encounters.”

“You sound frustrated, Joey. You know what would fix that?”

“I'm hanging up now. Give Dawson my love. See you both in a few weeks.” Joey disconnected Audrey mid-vulgarity and headed back to the living room.

Pacey looked up from his book when she emerged. “So how goes it in the valley of the dolls?”

“Audrey's good. Still sober. She's coming home with Dawson for Thanksgiving.”

“With Dawson?”

Joey took in the confused look on his face. “Did you not know they're dating?”

“Dawson and _Audrey_?” Pacey shook his head, laughing. “Nope. Impossible to picture that one.”

Joey sat back down to her books, but she absentmindedly twirled a pencil as her thoughts wandered. “Hey, Pace, when's the last time you spoke to Dawson?”

“Don't know. Last Christmas? Audrey's drunken disaster. Probably why I can't see them together.”

“You haven't talked to your best friend in almost a year?”

“Let's be honest, Jo, Dawson hasn't been my best friend for a long time.”

“And you're okay with that?” Joey's frown deepened at Pacey's careless tone.

“What was our friendship anyway? I needed a glimpse into the normalcy of a happy childhood, and Dawson needed a measuring stick against which he could feel good about himself. Throw in some movies, a few video games...It's okay, Potter. Not every childhood friendship lasts forever. Or should.”

“So are you not even going to the Leerys' Thanksgiving?”

“I might put in an appearance. I'm not avoiding the guy or anything. But Ma's pretty insistent about the whole lot of us being home for dinner this year, after Pop's heart attack and all.”

Joey's pencil slipped from her fingers. “What! Your dad had a heart attack? When did this happen? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Uh, this past spring. We weren't talking at the time. I just assumed you heard about it from Bessie or something.”

“Well, I didn't.” Tears pricked her eyes for no good reason. “If I had, I'd have been there, Pace, no matter what was going on with us.”

“It's okay. It wasn't a big deal, minor as these things go. But it has sent Ma on a kick of family togetherness that's likely to end in patricide.”

“If the urge becomes too much to bear, you know there are places you can escape to.”

~*~*~

It was the Saturday after Thanksgiving before Pacey availed himself of that offer. 

Thanksgiving had gone well. Mitch had taken a guy's view of Audrey and mostly seemed impressed Dawson had landed such a firecracker. Gail was disgusted, while Joey, in her first chance to observe her friends together as a couple, thought they suited each other in a strange way. Audrey, as an actress, could approach movies from angles Dawson's other friends never could. Her audaciousness made him relax and have more fun, while Dawson kept Audrey grounded.

Audrey joined Dawson and Joey in an old-fashioned movie night in Dawson's bedroom. She was appalled to learn this was how they'd spent the majority of their Saturday nights in high school. 

“No wonder you were both virgins so long.”

They had finished _E.T._ and were halfway through _Jurassic Park_ when Pacey showed up. He looked as though his vacation had been anything but relaxing. “Sorry to intrude, but it was this or punch Gretchen's new boyfriend on his non-existent chin.”

“Don't worry about it,” Dawson said. “It's good to see you, Pace.”

Dawson and Joey were sitting next to each other against the headboard, while Audrey lounged across the bottom half of the bed, her head pillowed on Dawson's legs. Pacey pulled a chair up to Joey's side. She resisted an absurd urge to abandon the bed for Pacey's lap.

“Spielberg again? Nothing ever changes around here, does it?”

“Dawson will be having sex at the end of the night. That's different.”

“Audrey!” Dawson's face turned crimson, but he looked pleased.

“What? Just because these idiots stopped banging doesn't mean everyone did.”

Joey kicked Audrey's thigh and resolutely did not look at Pacey. “Knock it off, Audrey.”

“So severed arms and eating people off toilet seats is a-okay, but a little honest discussion of human sexuality, and—”

“Audrey!”

Somehow, they made it through _Jurassic Park_ and _Jaws_ , despite Audrey's constant double—and single—entendres. Joey hadn't been this aware of the uncomfortable tension between herself and Pacey for months, which was undoubtedly Audrey's intention.

Pacey offered to give Joey a ride home at the end of the night. Rowing would be faster, but, on a cold night, sitting next to Pacey in a heated car sounded immeasurably better. Joey ignored Audrey's, “Don't forget to cover it up, kids,” as they left.

Unwilling to let Audrey's lewdness spoil all the progress their friendship had made, Joey wasted no time in asking, “So, really, how was the Witter Thanksgiving?”

“Well, if Ma thought we were all going to end the evening singing 'Kumbayah,' she must be bitterly disappointed right about now.”

“I'm sorry, Pace.”

Pacey shrugged in the darkness of the car. “Nothing I didn't expect. How 'bout you? Any psychologically scarring incidents to report from the Leery-Potter holidays?”

“Besides the images of her and Dawson having sex Audrey keeps foisting on me, nothing to speak of. It's been nice.” She waited only a moment before adding, “It was fun hanging out all together tonight.”

Pacey laughed. “Sure, between Audrey trying to matchmake us, and you trying to match me and Dawson.”

“Is it so wrong to want my best friends to remain that way, too?”

“No, it's sweet. But unnecessary. Dawson and I are fine being the kind of friends who talk once a year.”

Joey crossed her arms and sank into a sulky pout.

“Why does it bother you this much?”

“Because if you can write off Dawson so easily, who's to say I won't be next?”

Pacey turned down the Potter driveway without answering. He pulled to a stop in front of the B&B and killed the engine.

“Thanks for the ride, anyway.” Joey reached for the door handle, but Pacey caught her by the wrist before she could leave.

“You and I,” he began in a hoarse voice, “are one of the few things, perhaps the only thing, that ever made total and complete sense in my life.”

Joey sat back in her seat, stunned, and savored the brush of Pacey's thumb against her pulse. His expression was hidden from her in the night's darkness, and she was afraid of misreading his intentions. “As, as friends, or together, or—”

“Either. Both. I'm not saying I'm ready to go down that road again, but whatever reshuffling of priorities I go through in life, you always seem to come out number one.” He let go of her hand.

She wanted to kiss him, to kiss him and ask him in and never let him go, but she was afraid of pushing too fast. So she brushed her lips against his cheek, whispered a breathless, “Night, Pace,” and fled.

~*~*~

Their relationship continued in the same vein upon their return to Boston. A bit more touching, a bit more obvious flirting, but still just friends. After a weekend visit, Bessie offered Joey a word of warning.

“You're dating without dating. As long as you guys keep pretending this is real, neither of you is going to move on.”

“Suits me. I don't want to move on.”

Bessie clucked her tongue and pulled her little sister into a sideways hug. “Joey, you're still so young. You—and Pacey, too—you both need to have more and wider experiences before you can decide what you really want.”

Joey gave her sister the assenting words she expected. Bessie went home. Joey still didn't date. She didn't miss it. She knew what she wanted.

~*~

**I.**

Joey's adolescence had dragged by in what felt like an endless loop of over-analytical conversations and excruciating angst. In contrast, her life now flew by almost too fast for thought. There was school and motherhood and work and, in between, whatever moments with Pacey and her friends she managed to steal.

Before she knew it, Anders turned two. It did not seem possible that her baby boy had grown so fast. They threw him another giant party. Jen and Jack traveled up from New York for it, but Mrs. Ryan's radiation treatments kept her away. Jen looked pale and tired, but she was hopeful of the outcome. Joey tried to shut away thoughts of her mother and embrace optimism—not her natural state.

Thanksgiving was spent in Capeside again, but no one was on their best behavior this year. Andersen had bronchitis. Bessie and Bodie were fighting about finances and the possibility of another kid. Joey's dad was out of prison, and Pacey's dad got ruder and crueler the more he drank. Eventually, they got into a physical brawl, and Mike Potter only avoided a trip back to jail because Doug and Pacey dragged their father home before he could fumble open his handcuffs.

“Next year when the restaurant asks me to work Thanksgiving, I think my answer will be, 'oh hell, yes.'” Pacey flopped down on their bed at the B&B late that night.

“See? I always knew you were smart,” Joey replied, then smeared vapor rub on Anders' tiny chest.

They went to the Lindleys for Christmas, which was infinitely more pleasant. It was reassuring to see Grams happy and well. Anders was ecstatic to reunite with his old babysitters, and the only family drama to be found was Jen's. Joey relaxed and enjoyed the rare time off with Pacey, Anders, and their friends.

Movie nights were successfully reinstated. Nearly every week, Joey and Dawson settled in on the living room couch with a stack of videos and fell into old habits of critical assessment and philosophical debate on everything from _Citizen Kane_ to _The Goonies_. Most weeks, Gretchen joined them, but Pacey hardly ever did. He preferred spending his free nights with Joey and Anders alone. Joey did not regret that separation. The few times Pacey did participate felt forced. The awkwardness of high school and everything which had happened lingered in the room. Joey felt inexplicably guilty, though, for the life of her, she could not figure out who she was betraying.

~*~*~

**II.**

A few days after Christmas, while at home in Capeside, Joey got the long-awaited call from campus housing. There was a room free. Joey had forty-eight hours to let them know if she wanted it, before they moved onto the next name on the wait list.

Joey hopped into the old, blue pickup and chugged the few miles down the road to the Witter place. Pacey was outside having a snowball fight with Gretchen and their nieces and nephews. Reluctant to interrupt the rare family bonding experience, Joey sat in the warm, dry truck and watched all the glowing, happy faces and chaotic activity. 

After a few minutes, Gretchen pointed her out to Pacey. He jogged over to her door. Joey rolled down the window.

“Hey, Potter, wanna play?”

“As miserable, freezing cold introductions to pneumonia go, this one is charming, but I'll pass. I need your input on something.”

“If it's picking out your new bra, we both agreed black is the only way to go.”

A well-timed snowball hit Pacey in the back of the head.

“You deserved that,” Joey laughed, while Pacey loosed his revenge on an unfortunate nephew.

“I can't guarantee your safety much longer, Jo, so what's up?”

“Campus housing has a room for me,” Joey blurted out.

“Oh.” All the laughter drained out of Pacey's face. “Oh. Okay.”

“So should I take it?”

“That was the plan, wasn't it?” Pacey's tone was flat, unemotional.

“Yeah, of course. If you want me gone, I can be out in—”

“Whoa. Hang on. I don't want you to leave.”

Joey couldn't hold back her smile. “You don't?”

“No. I just figured you'd rather be on campus, with the library and your study groups and everything.”

“Actually, our apartment is about the quietest study environment I know.”

It was Pacey's turn to smile. “So you want to stay?”

“If you're sure it's not an inconvenience, having an old girlfriend around cramping your style.”

Pacey rolled his eyes. “Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“Stay.”

“Okay.” Joey grinned. Pacey grinned back.

Gretchen hit them both with one snowball.

~*~

**I.**

After the debacle of Pacey's eighteenth birthday, Joey let his next two pass with no more than cake, a present, and a quiet dinner for two. But for his twenty-first, she saved her tips at the bar for months and rented a sailboat for the day. One look at Pacey's face, and she knew it was money well spent.

They sailed out of the harbor until Boston was a dingy gray mass on the horizon. It was January and freezing cold, but they were bundled up. Their cheeks glowed from happiness as much as wind. Joey could see the stress and responsibility lifting from Pacey's shoulders with every minute which passed. 

She had enlisted one of the other chefs at Pacey's restaurant to pack them a picnic lunch, sparing them both her cooking. She also produced a six-pack of beer.

“Congratulations,” she told him, “you are now officially an adult.”

Pacey's mouth tipped as he opened a bottle against the ship's rail. “It's a strange metric our country uses to measure adulthood. I don't feel any more mature today than yesterday.”

“True. But it would hardly be practical to go house to house and test every teenager's ability to balance a checkbook and change a diaper.”

“If those were the qualifications, Audrey would remain a child for life.”

“She still might.” Joey smiled at the thought of their reckless roommate. “So twenty-one seems as good an age as any for some life evaluation.” She studied her husband as he stood against the rail, sea breeze tousling his dark hair, nose red from cold, expression distant as he watched the city disappear. “Are you happy, Pace?”

His focus lasered back to her. “What?” He sat on the bench beside Joey, wrapping his arms around her. Their bulky jackets made the embrace awkward, but Joey appreciated the extra warmth. “I'd be an ingrate and an idiot if I weren't. I have everything I ever wanted in life.”

“You don't have this.” She gestured at the choppy water around them.

“So what? Sailing is about escape. When I was a teenager, I wanted nothing more than to get away from Capeside and my whole damn life. Now, if we could only figure out how to transfer Florida's weather to Boston, my existence would be perfect.”

“I'll start working on that for your next birthday,” Joey answered flippantly, but she frowned, still worried. “You're sure you don't have any regrets? Most guys your age are out every night, clubbing, binge-drinking, sleeping with different women. You work so hard, Pacey, all the time, and—”

“And at the end of the day, I come home to the most stunning woman in the world and hold our son in my arms. What could be better than that? Furthermore, I thought this was supposed to be a celebration. I know parties are a foreign concept to you, Potter, but could you stop bringing me down?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Joey said and tried to smile. She wished she could dismiss this melancholy feeling. Pacey had said all the right things, but something in his eyes when he looked at her was sounding alarm bells through her system.

 _It's nothing_ , she told herself. _You're panicking for no reason_. Probably their imminent first anniversary had triggered her latent fear. Joey pushed her worries aside and concentrated on making it Pacey's best birthday ever.

~*~

Their anniversary arrived only a few weeks later. They celebrated simply with a fancy dinner and a night in a nice hotel.

“Regrets, Jo?” Pacey's fingers tickled a line down her spine while Joey lay boneless and content upon the bed.

“No. Ask me again in ten years.”

Pacey smiled, but it did not reach his eyes.

~*~

The distance between them only widened as the weeks went by. Nothing overt, nothing tangible, and yet Joey felt it, as she had felt him slipping away once before in senior year.

 _It's marriage_ , said the superstitious part of Joey's mind. _This is what marriage does to people._

 _It's life_ , countered her more rational but still cynical side. _It's ridiculous to imagine that amorous ardor can survive the daily grind of work and school and parenthood_.

But it broke Joey's heart to picture a life with Pacey as an ever-increasing stranger sleeping beside her, instead of her best friend and dearest love. She tried to talk to him about it, but he insisted everything was fine. Her repeated questions only irritated him.

So she stopped asking.

~*~*~

**II.**

“Feel like going sailing tomorrow?”

At Pacey's unexpected question, Joey looked up from the salad she was tossing. “What?”

He had just come home from work and headed to the sink to wash hands for dinner. “I need to take _Merri Lee_ out tomorrow to test the new sail. I thought since it's Saturday and since it's supposed to be one of the first nice days of the year, you might like to join me.”

“I haven't been sailing since _True Love_ ,” Joey said wistfully.

“All the more reason.” Pacey pulled plates and silverware down from the cupboard. “Come on, Potter. You know it'll be fun.”

~*~*~

It was. There was nothing quite as exhilarating as the salt spray of the ocean in her face, a strong, spring breeze whipping at her hair, and Pacey relaxed and in control at the helm.

“I can't believe I spent so long hating this,” Joey yelled into the wind.

“Hating it? When?”

“When sailing was the other woman stealing you away from me.”

The look Pacey gave her was so openly hungry Joey half-expected him to kiss her then and there. He might have done so, if a swell hadn't required an immediate readjustment of the sails.

Maybe it was that lost moment which made Joey turn to Pacey when they returned to their apartment that night, wind-blown and exhausted, and tell him, “Night, Pacey,” complete with a lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

He was still standing frozen when Joey slipped into her room.

After that, “good night” went from taboo in their house to the most dangerous and fun part of the day. Usually it was Joey taking the initiative, leaving Pacey with tight embraces or brushed kisses along his brow, his nose, his ear. But when Pacey was in the mood to play, he had zero interest in being fair. He kissed the pulse in her wrist, nipped at her knuckle, let a long strand of her hair slide through his fingers, wrapped her in his arms from behind and buried his face in her neck, and all this accompanied by a careless, “Night, Potter,” which ensured she would get no sleep at all.

~*~

**I.**

_2001: A Space Odyssey_ was the movie Dawson picked. Joey knew it was a mistake after the long, taxing day she'd had trying to entertain Anders while studying for finals. But she made no objections, and her eyes closed in the first twenty minutes.

“Pacey, don't—” 

Dawson's voice entered into Joey's foggy brain. The words rumbled from his chest into her ear, which was how she knew she was lying on her friend while she slept. She registered Pacey's quick steps climbing the stairs and sat up, blinking sleepy eyes. “What happened?”

Dawson's stare was apologetic, but he kept a hand on her back. “Pacey got home from work. I don't think he liked seeing you asleep on me. Everything all right with you two?”

Frowning, Joey shook her head. “I have no idea. I'd better go check. Night, Dawson.” She untangled herself from the afghan and Dawson's arms and went upstairs herself.

The door to Anders' room was half-open, and Joey always closed it before going downstairs. She peeked in and saw Pacey standing over their son's bed, shoulders slumped, head bowed. 

“Pace?” she whispered.

He neither moved nor responded.

Joey tiptoed into the dark room, lit only by the sliver of light filtering in from the hall. She listened to Anders' deep, even breaths and tried to stand in such a way as to see Pacey's face. Shadows covered his expression from every angle. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“It's easier to tell myself it's all in my head when I look at him.” Pacey bowed over the small form, brushing back Anders' dark hair and kissing his brow. When he stretched back to his full height, he took Joey's hand in his. “I'm sorry. I'm being stupid.” He led her out of the boy's room and shut the door quietly behind them.

Joey never took her eyes off her husband. “Pacey, are you jealous?” The idea was so patently ridiculous it had never occurred to her until tonight.

Pacey shrugged, but he dropped her hand and walked ahead of her into their room.

“You have nothing to be jealous about,” Joey told him as they changed for bed. “We were watching a movie, I fell asleep, end of story. Dawson's my friend, nothing more.”

“I know that.” Pacey didn't sound angry or upset, only morose. He left to brush his teeth and use the bathroom before Joey could ask another question.

Joey refused to let this drag on one more day. She completed her own nightly ritual and got into bed beside him. Ignoring the fact that Pacey's back was to her, she said, “You have to talk to me, Pace. Honesty was our promise from the beginning, remember? I need to know what's bothering you. Stop shutting me out.”

Silence reigned for several minutes. Joey didn't turn off the light.

“Dawson is symbolic,” he admitted finally.

“Of what?”

“Of all the lives you gave up for me.” He rolled over, leveraging himself up on his elbow to face her. “There are so many things you wanted out of life, so many dreams I grew up hearing you talk about. Dawson, sure, but also, travel, Europe, Paris. When we were kids, you wanted to be a deep-sea diver or a treasure hunter. You wanted to be an archaeologist, explorer, astronaut. Never once did I hear you say you wanted to be a wife and mother before you finished college, while working for minimum wage plus tips at a rundown bar.”

Joey released a deep breath, feeling better from the moment Pacey started talking. “I wish you'd told me all this months ago.”

“I didn't want to put you in the position of having to reassure me. Part of me knows I'm being an idiot, that you've made your own choices. But I also know pregnancy forced your hand; you might have chosen differently if not for Anders. And I've been selfish. Because this life makes me happy, I've tried to ignore that it might not be enough for you. But more than anything else in the world, I want you to be happy. So if you want to be free, to go to Paris or the moon or the bottom of Marianas Trench, or even to fall in love with someone else, I want you to know I'll understand. I'll miss you like crazy, but I will accept it.”

“Nice to know you think so highly of my maternal instinct, let alone those vows I said a year ago.” Joey was livid. She could not believe after all this time, after everything they had been through, he was still so insecure about her.

“Jo, I—”

“No, Pacey John Witter, you listen to me for once. Nobody trapped me into a life with you, certainly not you with your annoying efforts to push me away, and not Anders, either. I chose this life, and I love this life, every simple, ordinary, monotonous moment of it. And if ever I get bored and decide to fly to the moon or dive to the bottom of the sea, you will be standing right beside me. Is that clear enough for you, jackass?”

Pacey smiled then, huge and gorgeous and eyes shining. “Yes, ma'am.”

“The name is Mrs. Witter.” But it was impossible to stay angry when Pacey looked at her like that, so she kissed him instead.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey's junior year went far better than her last. There was no question her classes were easier than at Worthington, but Joey had given up the dream of getting out of Capeside. It was enough that in two years, she would have both her diploma and her teaching credentials and could support herself and her son and stop relying on her sister's charity.

The long train rides each way, plus the library hours between classes gave Joey the time she needed to study. Easier or not, it was satisfying to be at the top of the class again.

She eschewed making new friends among her fellow students, whose lives were so removed from hers. Instead, she kept in weekly communication with Jack and Dawson and daily contact with Jen. Mrs. Ryan's state was indeterminate. The doctors were hopeful they'd be able to effect a full cure, but it was too soon to tell. Joey spent many of her phone calls with Jen in near silence, letting Jen vent and cry, knowing there was nothing she could say.

Joey didn't date, but she did hook up a few times. Once at the only college party she ever attended—a small, quickly regretted rebellion at her life as a twenty-year-old single mother—she got drunk and went to bed with some guy whose name she didn't remember in the morning. Another time, a fellow train passenger she occasionally flirted with took her to the bathroom for an uncomfortable journey to a limited payoff. The diffident, curly-haired library assistant, on the other hand, made her come so hard she had to bite her own hand to keep from alerting any stray students to their position in the stacks. After that, he became her partner of choice for the physical release which was the only kind of relationship Joey allowed herself.

Andersen got older. He was into everything and ran Joey and Bessie ragged. Joey said the word No so many times it lost all meaning. 

Anders adored his cousin Alex and would follow the other boy around for hours; often, they were accompanied by Lily Leery. Joey would watch the three children scramble around the Potter B&B or the creek by the Leerys' front yard, and her heart would ache at the thought of three other children who had once played the same games, discovered the same secret places. The girl hadn't traveled far since then, but one boy had crossed a continent, while the other had chased the winds to the ends of the world.

*~*~*~*

The letter came two weeks before the end of Joey's junior year. It was laid out on the table by her place when she got home from school, as mail always was. But Bessie was never sitting across from her with an avid expression when Joey opened her usual assortment of bank statements, report cards, and financial aid documents.

“It's from him, isn't it?” Bessie had seen enough postcards over the last three years to know Pacey's handwriting almost as well as Joey did.

Joey nodded, surveying the innocuous envelope as though it might explode in her hands. It had no return address.

“Well, don't just stand there letting the grass grow. Open the damn thing.”

Hands shaking, Joey managed to obey. Inside were a plane ticket and a small slip of paper with a handwritten note. The ticket was to Paris, France, and departed from Logan International Airport on the fourteenth of June. The note read simply, _I've got the boat. You said I didn't need to ask._

A rush of emotion, stronger than anything she'd felt since the day Andersen was born, overwhelmed Joey. She hastily passed the envelope and its contents to her sister, afraid her tears would fall on them and damage the paper. Joey folded her arms on the table, put her head down on them, and sobbed, tears of joy and regret and relief intermingling.

“What's it mean, Joey?”

“He's taking me sailing,” Joey answered when she could speak. 

“And you're going to go? Just like that, after all this time? What about Andersen?”

“I have to go, Bessie. You can watch Andersen for me, can't you?”

“For how long, Joey? There's no return ticket included, in case you hadn't noticed.”

Joey hadn't; she didn't care. “Not long. A few weeks, maybe a month. Long enough for Pacey and me to reconnect and for me to tell him about Anders.”

“So you're finally going to tell him? No chickening out?”

“It was never about chickening out. I just wanted him to want me for me. But don't you see? This,” Joey waved Pacey's note in the air, “proves that he does.”

“And you don't think he'll be pissed at you for not telling him before?”

“Probably.” Joey bit her lip as she considered Pacey's possible reactions to her confession. “Yes, he'll be mad, furious even. But he'll come home, and we'll work the rest out as it comes.”

Bessie shook her head. “Okay, who are you, and what have you done with my sister, the cynic?”

~*~*~

**II.**

“One year down, countless to go,” was the toast with which Andie celebrated the conclusion of her first year of Harvard pre-med.

Joey joined in that toast and many more, as her own last final had been successfully completed that morning. She had jumped at Andie's invitation to join her and her roommates at their local bar. She had even been excited enough to cajole Pacey into accompanying her, an impulse she was rapidly regretting as co-ed after co-ed made a pass at him. Joey could barely see him through the surrounding circle of teased hair and cheap women.

“You think he'd at least have the decency to flirt out of my sight.”

“Didn't you guys break up, like, a year ago?” Molly, Andie's redheaded roommate asked while checking her makeup in a compact.

“So what's your point?”

“The mourning period has been and gone, and all those women merely see the obvious—that he's the best catch in the place tonight. And on that note, I'm going to hop in and free him from the masses. Pacey likes smart girls, right?” Molly didn't wait for an answer, abandoning them at the bar to push her way through Pacey's stupid harem.

Joey gaped after her. “Andie, your roommate is a bad friend. She's going after your ex!”

“As I recall, so did you once, and the wound was far more fresh then.”

“That is so not true! Everyone knows Pacey ran after me.”

“You _literally_ ran to the docks to find him.”

Joey giggled. “Oh. Right. Sorry about that.”

“No, you're not. And you shouldn't be. What you should be doing is saving Pacey from all those poor, deluded fools.”

“Diluted?” Joey furrowed her brow, trying to follow what Andie was saying. “Why?”

“They're all so smitten by that Witter charm they haven't noticed he can't go thirty seconds without looking at you.”

“Really?” Joey swiveled on her seat to try and catch him at it, but succeeded only in falling off the stool. She grabbed onto the bar to keep from landing on the floor. “He's probably worried about me. Pacey doesn't like it when I drink. I get stupid.”

“So you have a good excuse for doing something like marching over and kissing him in front of all these women,” Andie said with a smile.

“Right. 'Cause it can be 'cause I'm drunk, and not 'cause I love him.”

“Exactly.”

“But I do love him,” Joey admitted with a heavy sigh.

Andie snorted. “Yeah, I'm aware of that. Molly's aware of that. Everyone in this bar, with the possible exception of Dumbo himself, is aware of that.”

Joey frowned, draping her arms around the shorter girl's shoulders. “But, Andie, you're in love with him, too. Maybe you should kiss him.”

“I'm as in love with Pacey as you are with Dawson, which is to say, a nostalgic fondness for the boy he used to be.”

“He was the perfect boy. He's pricklier now. The stubble tickles.”

“And how would you know that, Joey Potter?”

“From saying good night,” Joey said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, which it clearly was.

“Well, you should go tell him good night now, before Molly tries to tell him good morning.”

Joey stumbled across the barroom to where Molly had successfully maneuvered Pacey away from his fan club and into a private booth. “Miss Molly, by golly!” she announced as she slid in by Pacey's other side.

Joey wished she had curves she could push into him as blatantly as Molly was doing, but she had less control of her long, thin frame than usual and ended up half in Pacey's lap anyway. His big hands splayed across her back to steady her.

“Hey, Pacey,” she said, staring into his bemused blue eyes, “I'm pretty drunk.”

“You are both of those things, yes,” he agreed.

“Andie and I don't like your harem.”

“My harem?” Pacey sounded on the verge of laughter, which made Joey smile. Molly's scowling face behind him only made Joey's smile widen.

“Yes, the skanks.” Joey's fingers played with the short hair at the nape of Pacey's neck. “Although that's not fair. It's not the girls' fault. I did a report on harems once.”

“I remember. As I recall, it went hand in tray with an assault in the lunch line.”

Joey giggled. “I'm such an angry girl.”

“Fearsome. Are you ready to go home?”

“Home?” she repeated blankly. “I was s'posed to do something first. I promised Andie.”

“You can call her in the morning. Or maybe the afternoon.” His hands went to her waist, preparatory to moving her. “Come on, Potter.”

“Oh! I 'member.” She pulled his face to hers for a long, sloppy kiss. “Night, Pacey.” She snuggled into his shoulder with a contented sigh.

Pacey didn't move for the longest time, while Joey watched the pulse throb in his neck and curled her fingers in the buttons of his shirt.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

For the next month, Joey lived with her mind already sailing the ocean. How she got through her finals was a complete mystery.

She packed and repacked, knowing minimalism was essential when sailing. She found her unused passport in the bottom of a drawer and moved it to her purse, so she wouldn't forget it.

For the first time since Andersen's birth, she went clothes shopping for herself. She bought a new swimsuit, then another. With fingers crossed, she bought new bras and panties and a black satin nightgown. She surveyed herself critically in the mirror and wondered how Pacey would react to the changes motherhood had made on her body.

Andersen didn't understand this flurry of activity. Trying to explain that Mommy was going on a trip didn't have any context to him, when Mommy left everyday but came home every night. He was only two-and-a-half and had yet to be bothered by thoughts of the daddy he didn't have. If this trip went well, he would never need to be. But Joey couldn't explain that to him either.

The morning of June 14th dawned bright and clear and beautiful. Joey was packed and ready the night before, so she had time to sit down to breakfast with her family and the B&B's guests before Bodie drove her to the airport.

“Mommy, don't feel good,” Andersen announced directly after the meal.

“What's wrong, baby?”

“Tummy hurts.” Andersen crossed his hands over his belly.

Joey had watched him eat three blueberry pancakes and wasn't unduly concerned. She thought he might be picking up some of her own nervous tension. “I'm sorry, sweetie.” She kissed the top of his tousled hair. “Maybe drink some more water, or have Aunt Bessie take you potty. Mommy needs to leave soon.” She gave him another swift kiss and went to her room to grab her bag.

“Mommy!” Andersen's panicked cry stopped her on her way out the door.

Joey dropped her duffle in the entryway and ran toward her son's cries. Bessie was there before her, already laying a towel over the pile of vomit on the bathroom floor.

“I can deal with this, sis. Go catch your plane.”

Joey ignored her, stooping to pull off Anders' soiled pajamas. “His skin is burning up.”

“It's stomach flu, Joey. It's been going around. Twenty-four hours and he'll be fine.”

He didn't look fine. His face was red and puffy, his eyes were watery from more than tears. “Mommy,” he whimpered again, helpless and wordless in his misery.

“Jo?” Bodie called. “We need to go. You don't want to miss your flight.”

“Mommy, don't go!” Andersen shrieked and wrapped his pudgy, fever-hot arms around her neck.

Joey gathered him to her. “Don't worry, baby. Mommy's not going anywhere.”

Bessie met her sister's eyes over Andersen's shoulder. “Joey.” Her own eyes blurred with tears. She rose and rubbed her hand over Joey's hair on the way out. “I'll tell Bodie.”

Joey ran her son a cool bath and tried to hide the tears streaming down her face.

*~*~*~*

Twenty-four hours later, Andersen was better, and Joey had thrown away her last best chance at happiness. She didn't even have a phone number or address to explain what had happened. She thought about asking Jen if she had a way to reach him but decided against it. This was Fate's way of telling her, once and for all, there was no future for her and Pacey.

Pacey's last postcard arrived ten days later. A picture of a lone boat sailing off into the sunset and no message at all on the back. Joey understood. There was nothing left to say.

~*~*~

**II.**

“Uh, Jo, what are you doing?”

Joey looked down from the ladder at Pacey standing in the door of their apartment. “I'm running a marathon. What does it look like I'm doing?” She gestured to the living room walls, almost entirely covered with primer.

“Okay, Snarky, starting again. _Why_ are you doing that?”

“Jeff was telling me the other day how he and his wife started out in this apartment, and his parents before them. So I started thinking a place with that much love and history in it deserves a bit of sprucing up. Except my hours in the office, I don't have much to do this summer, and Jeff said the company will reimburse me for supplies, since technically it's property improvement. Important question.” She pointed to some paint sample cards on the kitchen counter. “Rosy Morning or Sunset Nude?” 

Pacey snickered. “Do you even have to ask?”

“Ugh, don't be such a guy. You'll be living with this color for the indefinite future, so if you have an opinion, now's the time for sharing it. Also, this weekend, I need you to make some price comparisons with me on new countertops and bathroom fixtures.”

“I'm sorry. Did I sleep through the wedding? And also ten years of my life?”

Joey glanced back at him. He was sorting mail, a scowl on his face. “What's your problem?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, then took a deep breath and added more calmly, “Nothing. I'll order a pizza, then take pictures off the walls.”

Joey went back to work, wondering what had got into Pacey.

~*~*~

Working at Taylor & Sons was Joey's favorite job ever. Granted, that was a low bar to clear, as it won merely by not keeping her on her feet for eight hour stretches. But once she'd updated the files, she had plenty of downtime to study or—in the summer—sketch and write. 

The sporadic customers who walked through the door were almost exclusively men, and each thought they were the first one charming enough to flirt with Joey. The disgusting perverts and entitled bastards she shut down fast, but the sweet, old men and other harmless entities she charmed right back. It broke up the day.

Eric Jordan didn't fit any of those categories. He was a Harvard law student, ridiculously wealthy and—with his broad shoulders, sun-kissed hair, and aquiline nose—not bad on the eyes, either. He had brought in his grandfather's old sailboat, which he was having restored as a birthday present for his father. He never entered the building without a smile and a compliment for Joey, and he never left it without asking her out.

“Well, if it isn't my favorite sea nymph,” he said as the tinkling bell alerted her to his presence.

Joey smiled ear to ear. “Apollo stepped down from his chariot to pay me another visit.”

A throat cleared behind her. She whirled to see Pacey sizing up the newcomer with cold eyes. “Hey, Pace, what do you need?”

“Number for Mr. Hurston. Need to see if he'll authorize a new bowsprit. His current one is rotting.”

“Sure thing.” Joey scanned through the computer to find the number Pacey wanted.

“Can I help you?” Pacey asked Eric, none too kindly.

“Jeff Taylor called. He said my boat is ready for pickup. I brought the truck and trailer. They're out front.”

“What's the name?”

“ _Naiad_ ,” Joey said, smug after listening to Pacey gushing about that boat for weeks. She pressed a slip of paper with Hurston's number on it into his chest. “There ya go.”

“ _Naiad_?” Pacey's jealousy couldn't overcome his love for that boat. “She's one beautiful lady. If you pull around back, we'll open the gate and get her ready for you.”

“Sure. Thanks.” Eric sent Joey another dazzling smile while Pacey headed out the back. “Guess this means it's your last chance to change your mind. What do you say, want to take _Naiad_ out for a test sail with me?”

The slamming of the backdoor meant Pacey had heard that offer.

“Super-tempting, but it's still going to be no, sorry.”

Eric didn't look devastated, but his smile fell enough to be good for Joey's ego. “Okay, I give up. What is it? I came on too strong, right?”

“No, I wasn't lying. It's the most tempting offer I've had in months. But I'm in love with someone else, which would make a date vastly unfair to you.”

“Lucky man.”

Joey rolled her eyes. “Try telling him that.”

~*~*~

Joey was engaged in the weirdly satisfying task of peeling the old bathroom wallpaper when Pacey came home that night. After peeking in on her, he returned to the kitchen to scrounge them up some dinner.

“You'll have to tell me what it's like,” he called out to her.

“What what's like?” she called back, with utter disregard of the grammatical quandary.

“Sailing on _Naiad_.”

Joey stifled her laughter. Poor Pacey, trying valiantly to not sound jealous. “Not going. And I'm surprised you didn't take her out when you had her.” She heard Pacey's steps and knew he was behind her in the bathroom doorway before she finished speaking.

“You turned him down?” Pacey sounded entirely too incredulous.

Joey pulled down one last strip then turned to wash her hands. “Yes, Pacey, I turned him down. Just like I turned him down the last three times he asked me.”

“Why?”

“You know why. It's the same reason you brought a drunken me home from the bar last month and spent your night holding my hair out of my face while I puked, when you could have hooked up with any of a dozen girls instead. It's the reason you spent last weekend picking out new bathroom tile, when you'd rather have been doing anything else. It's the reason two out of the last three nights we've fallen asleep together on the couch rather than stop reading and go to bed.”

Pacey's mouth tipped ruefully. “Somehow, despite my best efforts, we've become a couple again.”

Joey nodded, pushing him out of the way and walking to the kitchen. She waited until he was behind her to say, “In every way but the sex.”

The sound of Pacey tripping over his feet made her grin.

They warmed up leftovers in silence. There was ritual to it, Pacey picking the mushrooms out of her stir-fry and adding them to his own, Joey cracking open his beer and drinking the foam.

“I've thought about going away,” Pacey admitted, jabbing his fork almost angrily into his food. “I figure, a decade on the other side of the planet, not seeing you, not talking to you—even I would move on at some point.”

Joey's stomach twisted, not from the leftover Chinese. “Why haven't you?”

“Ten years is a significant portion of one's life, you know. At the end of the day, I'd rather spend it with you than without you.”

“With me as in friends, or in this weird limbo state, or with me as in _with me_?”

Pacey sighed and reached for her, cradling her face between his hands. “I have spent way too much time thinking this year. And let's face it, thinking has never been my forte. It's how things got so screwed up with us in the first place. But whenever I stop thinking and just _feel_...it's you, Jo. It's always been you, it's always going to be you.”

Pacey's eyes were soft and warm, the way they always used to be. So was his mouth when he kissed her.


	8. Chapter 8

**I.**

Joey wanted to plan a visit to Jen and Grams while she was on summer break and before Anders started preschool. But their trips at Thanksgiving and Christmas, combined with Anders' case of pneumonia, had used up all of Pacey's vacation days, so he stayed in Boston while Joey and Anders spent a week in NYC.

The visit was necessary, as Mrs. Ryan was not doing well, and the whole family was in low spirits. Anders did much to raise them, just by being a loud, chaotic, lovable child. He looked liked his mother, but he was definitely his father's son. 

Joey was glad to see her friends and pleased with the good effect Anders had on them, but the trip was hard on her. Memories of her mother reinforced her fears for Grams, and she missed Pacey. They had not been apart a night since they first moved in together. Building her life's happiness around a single person was both terrifying and comforting. She thought a lot that week about Mr. and Mrs. Ryan and their bench by the creek.

Joey forgot to bring Andersen's storybook—it was ludicrous how much stuff you had to pack when vacationing with a two-year-old. Rather than buy another one, Joey took lessons from Andersen's namesake and used personification to invent stories about the adventures of a sentient sailboat. They worked just as well for lulling him to sleep, and Joey spent hours in the night—sleepless without Pacey beside her—puzzling out improvements and additions. On impulse, she bought a notebook at the station and spent much of the train ride home putting her stories to paper.

They returned to Pacey's beloved arms and to the news that Dawson and Gretchen were moving. One of Dawson's film school pals was making a movie in Vancouver and had offered Dawson a job as assistant director. It was too good an offer to refuse, and Gretchen was thrilled with the idea of a road trip, followed by living someplace new. They were both so happy Joey couldn't resent their leaving.

But it meant the start of another roommate search. Audrey didn't care who filled the void, but Anders' presence made Joey and Pacey cautious. Their son would begin Head Start in the fall; Pacey was switching to the breakfast and lunch shift, so he would be home in the evenings with Anders, all of which meant babysitting had become a less compulsory trait in a roommate. But they rejected a few of Audrey's party friends flat.

Jack phoned Joey a few weeks after Dawson and Gretchen's departure. After the requisite small talk—no appreciable change in Grams' condition, Anders had said his first curse word and received his first time-out—Jack said, “Pacey mentioned you guys were roommate hunting. I had an idea right away, but I thought I should run it by you first.”

“Sure. Who you got?”

“Andie. She's starting her second year of Harvard pre-med, and I'm a little worried about her. You know how focused and driven she can be. I don't think she made one friend or went to one party her entire freshman year. I thought friends she knows, people she feels safe with, might be a good thing. But if it's weird for you, with her being Pacey's ex, the idea dies here.”

“That actually sounds perfect. Thanks for the suggestion.”

“You're not bothered by her history with Pacey?”

The key point of their history was that Andie had thrown away what Joey valued most, but she didn't make that point to Andie's brother. “Everyone has history. If Pacey survived a year with my ex-soulmate, I imagine I can brave the danger. Andie's our friend, not some random stranger. I'll feel safe with Anders in the house with her, and if, like you said, we could do her some good, all the better.”

Pacey supported the plan, but Andie rejected the offer when they made it. She said the house was too far from campus and living with a small child would distract from her studies. Joey was unwilling to press her, but Jack had no such compunction. He spent a week visiting his sister and friends in Boston, at the end of which a blushing Andie asked if that room was still available.

To Joey's surprise, Audrey took an immediate shine to Andie and did more to coax her out of the schoolwork zone than Pacey and Joey could manage with their busy lives. Audrey declared Friday single ladies' night, and every week, without fail, made Andie shut her books and hit the town. 

Joey, unlike Andie, was not taking any classes that summer. Between work, chores, and motherhood, it didn't feel like much of a break, but she stole a few hours where she could to work on her story. Pacey had given her an easel and new art supplies for Christmas, and she finally put them to use, painting watercolors for her book.

Joey's original intent was to bind the book and save it for Anders, an idealized, allegorical fairytale about how his parents fell in love. But when she showed the finished project to Pacey, he had other ideas.

“This is beautiful, Jo. You should get it published.”

Joey snorted. “Yeah, because the thing I really need to get me through my senior year at Worthington is a series of rejection letters inspiring a debilitating bout of depression.”

Pacey put the book aside and pulled Joey into his lap. “There is no way that will happen, but, lucky for you, you have a husband who knows more about rejection than anyone alive, who can help you through if it does.”

“Right. Because your coping mechanisms of sullen silence and lashing out were so healthy.”

“I could tell you what not to do, anyway. But I'm serious, Jo. The book is good. At least run it by some of your professors and see what they think.”

Against her better judgment, Joey made a couple copies of her book. She gave one to her nicest English professor, Wilder, and one to the terror of the department, Hetson. Wilder returned it to her within the week, laden with red marks and the kind of patronizing encouragement which convinced Joey publication was a pipe-dream. Professor Hetson waited so long to get back to her Joey was certain the book had been shoved to the bottom of a pile somewhere. 

Late in the semester, Hetson asked her to stay after class one day. “Surprised you haven't been nagging me about that story of yours, Mrs. Witter.”

“Oh. I figured it was best forgotten.” Joey shifted her bookbag uncomfortably from shoulder to shoulder.

“Why? I liked it. Much more than your classwork, if I'm being honest. Of course, I know nothing about children's lit. so I gave it to a colleague of mine who does. She's a fan, too, and recommended it to a publisher you might know.” The professor handed Joey a business card, along with the battered copy of her manuscript. “They're awaiting your call.”

Joey's mind spun. “Thank you, Professor. I don't know what to say.”

“Don't say anything. Just don't let this distract you from turning your work in on time, and we'll be cool.”

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey wallowed through the rest of her summer, but, with autumn, came classes and her teaching hours for certification. She became too busy and motivated to give her shattered heart any attention.

When Doug stopped by the B&B one day in November, it was too common an event to cause any surprise. Since learning about Andersen, scarcely a week went by without him dropping in for dinner, or bringing Anders a new toy, or driving him out for an adventure in a real police car. The shock came when he bypassed the kids playing in the yard to talk to Joey. She was in the kitchen, making dinner—macaroni and hot dogs, the limit of her culinary skills.

“Hey, Doug, what's up?”

“I finally heard from my brother.”

The spoon Joey was stirring with went slack before she recovered and continued to mix in the melting butter. “Oh?”

“He's married, Joey. I got his wedding announcement in the mail today. I'm sorry.”

Joey forced a laugh, hoped it didn't sound bitter. “Why? Does he...does he look happy?”

“I brought it with me, if you'd care to see it. But you don't have to, if you'd rather not.”

Best to get it over with in one devastating swoop, not leave herself a single shred of hope to feed upon. Without a word, Joey held out her hand. Doug handed her a large, colorful print, reminiscent of a Christmas card, except the words announcing the recent marriage of Helene Marie Fournier to Pacey J. Witter. 

The picture was of a smiling couple wrapped around each other, standing in front of a picturesque French chateau. Pacey looked good, tanned, lean, eyes bright with happiness Joey could see even in a photograph. His new wife had worked some kind of magic on his wardrobe, since he was dressed in blue and black, not a day-glo color or Hawaiian print to be seen. The woman— _Mrs. Witter_ , Joey corrected herself harshly—was gorgeous and as French as her name. Lustrous, chestnut hair; dark, flashing eyes; pouting lips turned up in a seductive smile. 

Joey forced herself to memorize the image, then handed it back to Doug with a quiet, “Thank you.”

“I'm sorry, Joey,” Doug said again.

Joey added the cheese packet to the macaroni and said nothing.

“In light of this, since it's already happened, I mean, it would be cruel to tell him about Andersen now, don't you agree?”

“Yes,” said Joey, cutting up hot dogs to toss in the pasta. “Yes, I agree.”

~*~*~

**II.**

Being back with Pacey did not drastically change Joey's life. They had pretty much been a couple for months, anyway. The main difference was simply being happy. But, as Audrey observed, that was a side effect of copious amounts of sex.

More and more of Joey's belongings migrated to Pacey's room, until it was theirs, and the other resumed its function as storage. But as the year neared its close, Joey took to hiding in that room while she worked on a project. She found a photograph of _True Love_ and painted Pacey a picture for Christmas. _True Love_ how she must have looked as they sailed away into a summer sunset.

Pacey loved it. At least he claimed to. When he told her to hang it in the office, instead of their apartment, Joey had her doubts.

“Trust me,” was Pacey's cryptic response.

By week's end, she had three commissions for obscene amounts of money to paint customers' boats.

“Never underestimate the love of a captain for his ship,” Pacey told her smugly.

The painting jobs kept coming and made it likely Joey would graduate debt-free in the spring. She was thinking about enrolling in grad school afterwards, as she still hadn't decided what to do with her life.

Pacey's future, on the other hand, was becoming more entrenched in the shipwright business. After Jeff's son declaimed forever any interest in the family heritage, Jeff gave Pacey a five percent share in the company, with the option to buy in more as the years went by. There was some suggestion that Taylor & Sons might one day become Taylor & Witter.

~*~

**I.**

Within the month, Joey had officially sold her first book. The money wasn't much; most of it would depend on royalties from sales. But the publishers had faith enough that it would sell to option first rights on her next three books.

Joey put away Andersen's storybooks and started inventing her own for bedtime. The ones he enjoyed most she wrote down and started sketching.

Sometimes it was hard to remember she had one last year of school to finish. Joey had found her calling.

The day the box arrived with Joey's copies of the book was surreal. She and Pacey opened it together, and there was her name Josephine Witter printed against her painting of a ship in a storm. Reverently, Joey traced the letters with her finger.

“So how high does this rank on your list of perfect days, Potter?”

“Mmm, the day Anders was born, the island picnic I had with Mom and Bessie when I was seven, then this.”

“I should be offended, but I'm just too damn proud of you.” Pacey grabbed a copy off the stack and flipped through the pages. Joey knew when he found it, because his fingers stilled and tears stood out in his blue eyes.

The one page Pacey hadn't seen before, the dedication.

_For Pacey, the star I steer by_  
and  
For Andersen, the reason we found safe harbor 

~*~

The book did sell. Book signings had to be fitted into Joey's already overloaded schedule. She refused to go on the tour her publishers wanted, but she quit taking weekend shifts at the bar and instead spent her Saturdays at bookstores up and down the eastern seaboard. She saw little eyes grow wide and tiny faces light up as she read the words she had written and knew there could be no more rewarding profession than this.

Jack and Jen came to see her when she was in New York. Pacey came along and brought Anders with him on the rare occasions he had the day off. Bessie and Bodie and their kids made a surprise appearance one day at a signing in Boston.

Bessie bought a whole stack of books and threatened to give one to everyone she knew or had ever met. “My little sis, the authoress,” she said with wonder.

 _To Bessie_ , wrote Joey, in her sister's personal copy, _whatever I am or ever hope to be is because I had your shoulders to stand on_.

~*~

Joey was studying for the final finals of her life. She had discovered early in the year that Andie's cave in the attic was the ideal study environment. As they both craved quiet and lack of distraction, Andie and Joey's main bonding experience through the year had been hours spent in silence. Probably not what Jack intended in their living arrangement, but Audrey made up for it on the weekends.

The door at the bottom of the steps crashed open, and Anders raced up the stairs so fast he balanced on his hands the last few steps. “Dinner's ready!” he shouted, excited and pleased to be the messenger. “Daddy says he's not bringing it up here, and if you won't come, I should drag you.” He followed words with actions, chubby fingers grabbing his mother's slim hands and pulling with all his might.

Joey rose with a laugh. “Yes, sir. Come on, Andie, we've been given our orders.”

“Five more minutes.” Andie's head remained buried in her textbook.

Joey looked at her son and jerked her head toward the oblivious blonde. With a grin, Anders launched himself onto the bed. He tickled Andie with more enthusiasm than skill. Andie surrendered, dropping the book to flip the little boy on his back and tickle him until he squealed.

“All right, monster, you win.” Andie scooted off the bed while Anders hopped down and went barreling ahead of them.

Pacey had dinner on the table set for five. Audrey and Anders were already sitting when Joey and Andie arrived. 

Joey wrinkled her nose while sliding into the seat Pacey held out for her. “Fish?”

Pacey chuckled. “Kiddo, what do we tell picky eaters?”

“You get what you get, and you don't throw a fit,” Anders sing-songed.

Joey stuck her tongue out at Pacey while he took the seat across from her. “Using my own son against me is almost as mean as promising to cook dinner and then serving my least favorite food.”

“First of all, they're salmon croquettes, the least fishy of fish. Secondly, it's a proven fact that fish is brain food, and I thought the scholars of the house would appreciate it.”

“I appreciate it, Pacey,” said Andie, before practically inhaling her food in her rush to return to her books.

Joey looked down at the elegant salmon, seasoned rice and summer squash. She looked at her son, consuming with gusto a meal which would send most three-year-olds into fits. She looked at her friends, at her home, and finally at her husband. She smiled and ran her toes over his foot and up his calf, a silent confirmation that she appreciated it, too. Even if she hated fish.

~*~

After dinner, Pacey assigned Audrey clean-up duty, over her strong objections. He took charge of Anders' bath and bed routine, so Joey could have a few more hours to study.

Joey assumed Andie would lose herself to the work as soon as they entered the room, but her shorter friend sat on the edge of the bed, worrying her hands, making no attempt to open a book.

“Everything all right?” Joey asked as she grabbed her women's lit. notes off the floor.

“I want to tell you something, but I don't know if it's appropriate.” Andie sounded nervous, but not the teary devastation which marked her down times.

“Appropriate has never really been a hallmark of any of the conversations our little gang has. If something's on your mind, share it.”

“It's about Pacey,” Andie blurted out.

Joey had suspected it was, so her expression did not change. “Okay. What about Pacey?”

“I spent years blaming myself for ruining things with him. I was sure he was 'the one,' and if I hadn't messed up, he and I would have been together forever. I have sabotaged every single relationship I've had since then, because I couldn't let go of him. I watched him with you and thought, _that could have been us_. It's why I didn't want to live with you guys.”

Joey wasn't exactly shocked by Andie's revelations, but she was filled with pity for her friend. “Andie, I—”

“Wait, Joey. Let me finish. Living with you both has turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to me. I see your life, how happy it makes you both, but I've realized this is not the kind of life I want. Call it ambition or selfishness, but I want to do more, become someone important, change the world.” She gave a self-deprecating little laugh. “I used to think I could turn Pacey into a person who wanted that, too, but the truth is all he ever wanted is what he has with you—a family who loves him. So now I finally know it wasn't all my fault, I can quit blaming myself. Things worked out exactly the way they should.” Andie shot Joey one last, anxious look. “Please, don't hate me.”

Joey sat next to Andie on the bed and wrapped an arm around her in a sideways hug. “I think I love you more than ever.”

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey graduated in the spring. She lined up a job at Capeside Elementary, teaching second grade, not out of some deep calling, but because it was the opening they had.

She took Andersen to New York for an extended visit with Mrs. Ryan and Jen. Mrs. Ryan wasn't doing well. Every time they thought she had the cancer licked, it was discovered in some new, worse place. The doctors weren't discussing a complete recovery anymore.

Mrs. Ryan was in good spirits, all things considered. “No one lives forever, Josephine,” she said one day, as they sat in the park and watched Andersen play. “I'm old, and I'm tired, and I'm ready to go home and see my Jesus.” Mrs. Ryan always talked about Jesus as though he were some far away but much-loved friend. “I worry for Jennifer. I don't want to see her embittered by this.”

Jen didn't strike Joey as angry. In fact, sorrow about Grams aside, Jen had never seemed happier. She had graduated NYU with a psych major and been accepted into the masters program there. She and her mother had mended fences, and she had a new boyfriend, one she thought hung the moon. Joey didn't care much for him, but she had always found Jen's taste in men—Dawson excepted—somewhat suspect.

Jack didn't like Jen's boyfriend, either, but he had his own news to impart. He was returning to Capeside to teach English at the high school. “I always hoped my life's career would smack of irony,” he said with a laugh.

Joey was just happy he was coming home.

After her month in New York, Joey returned to Capeside to find Dawson's long-anticipated trip home had been postponed yet again. His pilot, loosely based on his own adolescence—Joey couldn't wait to see how terribly he depicted her this time—had been picked up, and he was already filming. She was sad not to see him, but happy his dreams were coming true.

She heard no more about Pacey. If others heard, they didn't tell her. The silence was kind.

*~*~*

**III.**

The people who insisted high school was the best years of your life were flat-out wrong as far as Joey was concerned. College was infinitely better. Pacey was right when he said Joey thrived at Worthington. Her love of literature long-outlasted her fleeting crush on Professor Wilder and even survived the douchiness of her next year's professor. So, in spite of its impracticality and unlikelihood to ever make her a fortune, or even a living, Joey became a lit. major.

Pacey spent three years learning in other restaurant kitchens, through part-time jobs, and in classes at Boston's culinary institute. Joey had never been prouder of him, though she teased that they were going to end up a fat old couple if he kept feeding her pasta and sweets.

During Joey's senior year, they bowed to the inevitable and moved in together. It was a tiny rathole of a place, and both their tempers flared sometimes as they settled into their new situation. But when Joey fell asleep in Pacey's arms every night, she could not imagine another life for herself. At least not one she'd want. 

Joey graduated _magna cum laude_ , and Pacey rewarded her with two tickets to Paris. They didn't have much money; it was youth hostels and bag lunches all the way, but it felt like the summer on _True Love_ , like the world had paused to give them a magic moment.

Maybe that magical feeling was why Joey didn't hesitate to say yes when Pacey looked at her bathed in the light of the stained glass windows of _Sainte-Chapelle_ and asked, “Jo, will you marry me?”

They got the crazy idea to marry in France before they went home and spare themselves the fuss and bother of a wedding. A brief experience of the bureaucracy and red tape of trying to wed on foreign soil convinced them international waters were easier. More fitting for them, anyway. They booked the cheapest cruise on the Riviera and were married in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey met Greg Lawhead at her first faculty meeting. He was one of the fifth grade teachers, a kind-faced, dark-haired man in his mid-thirties. He would have made no more impression on her than the score of staff she was introduced to that night if he hadn't approached her during the coffee break with a warm smile and a friendly offering.

“I'm still new enough to remember how hard the first year or two can be. If you need anything—be it advice, someone to listen to a rant, or art supplies—my door is always open. Unless it's closed, of course.”

Joey laughed at his unfunny joke and thanked him. 

But his offer was genuine, and his classroom became a refuge for Joey in the difficult, early weeks of teaching. 

Greg's eyes, behind his glasses, were the gray of a midwinter storm. Slate gray was also the color of his favorite sweater and the prematurely changed swath of hair by his left temple. His jokes weren't funny, but he had a nice laugh. He had an authoritarian manner that must come in handy corralling thirty preteens, but Joey never once heard him raise his voice. He was divorced, with joint custody of his eight-year-old daughter and five-year-old son. When Joey told him about Andersen, he suggested they get the boys together for a playdate.

The boys hit it off, and it became a standing arrangement. Every other Saturday, on the weekend Greg had his kids, they met at the park. The kids played. Greg brought Joey coffee, black, the way she liked it. They sat on a bench and chatted about their lives.

It was nice.

*~*~*~*

After the initial weeks of terror, Joey grew to like teaching. Her students were old enough to know the routine of school, yet young enough to mostly like it. She had only a few problem pupils, one a smartass class clown who reminded her far too much of Pacey at his age. It made her indulgent with his antics.

Joey and Jack met for drinks after work most Fridays. Hearing horror stories of trying to teach poetry to freshmen made Joey ever more grateful for Shel Silverstein and second grade. Greg joined them sometimes, and Joey extended invitations to Doug Witter as well. She wasn't trying to matchmake, but she thought Jack might be able to help Doug with those painful first steps out of the closet.

“So are all your friends men?” Greg asked, while walking her home one night. His hand rested behind her elbow, not quite supporting her but there if she should happen to need it.

Joey snorted. “Pretty much. There's Bessie, my sister. And Jen, but she's in New York. Everyone else...even when I was kid, my best friends were guys.” She hadn't told Greg about Dawson and Pacey yet; it was a lot to dump on a man she wasn't even dating.

“Thus, Joey.” At her blank look, he clarified, “Instead of Josephine.”

“Oh. Right.” 

Joey stumbled. Greg grabbed her arm to right her, and she turned and kissed him. It was nice.

He smiled when he broke the kiss, tucked her arm through his and walked her the rest of the way home. On the front stoop, he kissed her again, but didn't suggest she invite him in. He merely said, “Good night, Josephine,” and left her there.

*~*~*~*

After that, with no further discussion, Joey and Greg were dating. He took her out on weeks when he didn't have his kids. Sometimes, she slept over; more often, she went home after, unwilling to spend the night away from her son. When Greg did have the kids, it was family-friendly outings for all.

It was Joey's first official relationship since Pacey and couldn't have been more different. While her time with Pacey had been mercurial, extraordinary highs and devastating lows, Greg was steadiness and comfort. It was the kind of relationship Joey imagined she and Dawson might have had if they'd waited until their hormones were in check.

“Boring,” Jen said, when Joey tried to explain it to her.

“Maybe a little. But after the last four years, it's amazing how good boring can feel.”

~*~

**I.**

Life changed after graduation. Joey had her second children's book published, this one about an alien who came to earth and witnessed terrible things but could not understand them and kept putting beautiful interpretations on them, until they became beautiful. She dedicated it to Dawson.

Her publishers also hired her to do illustrations for some other authors' books. The work was unlikely to make her rich, but the pay was enough to let Joey quit working as a waitress. Audrey moved back to California; instead of taking on another roommate, Pacey and Joey converted the empty room into a studio/office for Joey.

Joey loved working from home. She wrote and painted while Anders was at preschool and had her entire afternoons and evenings to devote to her son. For the first time since he was born, she felt she was spending enough time with him.

Pacey was promoted to executive chef at his restaurant. The extra pay was appreciated; the extra hours were not. They talked about his opening his own place someday, but for now the financial risk was not worth the distant promise of more flexibility in his schedule. 

They made the most of the time they did have. Wednesday, Pacey's day off, was family day. Sometimes, they kept Anders with them and went on outings to the zoo or the children's museum, to Capeside or New York, even fishing or sailing. Sometimes, Pacey and Joey spent the hours Anders was in preschool on a date. They would go to a matinee movie, or ice skating, or just to a lunch Pacey didn't have to cook. Occasionally, they spent the whole day in bed.

But those were the highlights. The everyday was bills to pay, a house to clean, doctors' appointments, teaching Anders not to scream in the house, not to jump off the stairs, not to climb on the furniture, not to play with Mommy's paints. Mornings when Pacey was so frustrated with Anders' dawdling that he yelled at his son—and hated himself for it for hours if not days after. Days when Joey was so exhausted by the time Pacey came home, she bit his head off just for walking in the door. 

Good days and bad, Joey had no regrets. 

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey's Christmas gift to herself and her son was a two-bedroom apartment of their own halfway between the B&B and the school. It was also walking distance from Greg's. That was incidental; Capeside was a small town.

“Mommy, what's this?”

Joey looked up from the box she was unpacking to see her son with a spilling shoebox of postcards in his hands. She sighed. Andersen, now four, had started to notice that most of his friends had daddies and he did not. Joey had been wondering how to begin the conversation and knew this was as good a sign as any.

She abandoned her packing to sit cross-legged on the floor beside the fallen postcards. As if sensing the import of the moment, Andersen mimicked her position on the other side of the mess.

“These are postcards your daddy sent me.”

Andersen's blue eyes were as huge and round as she had ever seen them. “I have a daddy?”

“You do. His name is Pacey. He's Uncle Doug's brother.”

“I like Uncle Doug. Is my daddy like him?”

“Not much,” Joey admitted with a laugh. “But he's wonderful in his own way.”

“How come I never seen him?”

“Because he's a sailor. He sails all around the world, and that's where these postcards come from.” Joey didn't add that she hadn't received one in over a year. Time enough to answer that question when he was older.

Andersen viewed the postcards with greedy eyes. “Can I have them, Mommy?”

“Of course. I saved them for you.” She helped him gather the pictures and put them back in their box. It was given a place of honor by Andersen's bed.

Joey hoped that would be the end of it.

*~*~*~*

Naturally, it was only the beginning. Every day, Andersen came to her with some new question about his father.

“Is my daddy a pirate?”

“Lord, I hope not.”

“Is my daddy stronger than Lily's daddy?”

“I have no idea. Probably not. Mr. Leery is really strong.”

“Did you like my daddy, Mommy?”

“Very much.”

“Do you think Daddy would like the snow tunnel Alex and I made?”

“I think he'd slide through and wreck it.”

“Is my daddy ever coming home?”

“I don't know, sweetie.”

When he asked what his dad looked like, Joey went to Bessie's and dug out the photo albums. She found every picture of Pacey from age five to eighteen in their possession and transferred them to a new album she'd bought for her son. 

Joey thought no one was home until Bodie laid gentle hands on her back. “Interesting project.”

Joey swiped the tears off her face. “It's for Andersen.”

“Ah. Good idea.” Bodie squeezed her shoulders and kissed the top of her head.

The album, while thrilling to Anders, led to even more questions. He wanted an explanation behind every single photograph. The ones where they were kids were easy, telling him stories of their games, making their adventures sound more exciting than they actually were.

But things got complicated with the high school pictures. Much like they had in life.

“Who's that girl with Daddy?”

“That's Andie, Uncle Jack's sister.”

“Why are they holding hands? You're only s'posed to hold hands with a girl if you are in love, like Alex does with Lily, but I don't, 'cause Lily is a gross girl.”

“Well, Daddy and Andie were in love.”

“Did they get married?”

“No, they didn't.”

Andersen frowned as his worldview was challenged. “But if you're in love, you're s'posed to get married. Bella says so.” Bella was Greg's daughter and considered herself the source of all wisdom.

“Sometimes people in love get married, like Lily's parents. Sometimes they don't, like Uncle Bodie and Aunt Bessie. And sometimes they fall out of love, which is what happened with Andie and your daddy.”

“Is that why he's holding your hand in this picture? Did Daddy fall in love with you?”

Joey dried dishes and didn't look at the photograph. “Yes, he did. We did.”

“And you kissed.” The words were hurled as an accusation. Andersen pointed at the incriminating photo from the album opened on the kitchen table. “That's 'scusting.”

Joey laughed. “Sorry, sweetie. Kissing is something mommies and daddies do.”

This made Anders wrinkle his tiny brow in thought. “Is Mr. Lawhead my new daddy? You let him kiss you.”

“No, he's not your daddy. He's just a nice man I'm dating. Sometimes you kiss people you're dating.”

“I like my old daddy,” Andersen announced with a child's lack of logic. He'd never met Pacey and adored Greg.

“Good for you. Time for bed.”

But the discussion was only delayed, because when baths were taken, teeth were brushed, jammies were donned, and Joey was tucking him in, Anders asked, “Did you and daddy get 'vorced? Bella and Brandon's mommy and daddy got 'vorced, and that's why they don't live together no more.”

“No, Anders, your daddy and I were never married, like Aunt Bessie and Uncle Bodie.”

“Then why'd he go away? Uncle Bodie never goes away.”

“Uncle Bodie is a chef, not a sailor. Chefs stay; sailors have to leave.”

Andersen was dissatisfied with her answer. “I wish my daddy were a chef.”

“Good night, Anders.” Joey turned off the light before he could ask another question.

*~*~*~*

The interrogation continued at a rate Joey's answers couldn't match. She told him to ask Uncle Jack and Auntie Jen some of them. She thought of directing him to Doug, as well, but Joey had never subscribed to the Witter view of Pacey. She wanted her son to have a kind vision of his father. Pacey had done nothing to forfeit that right, and Andersen deserved at least that much.

But Joey found rehashing her relationship with Pacey—even the child-friendly version of it—exhausting. It made her turn with more gratitude than ever to Greg's stability.

“If you don't mind my asking,” Greg said one evening as they nursed a bottle of wine on his couch, “what did happen to Anders' father? I wouldn't have brought it up, except he's even asking me now.”

Joey took a large drink and refilled her glass. “Sorry. He's become obsessed.”

“All boys want to know their father. It's natural; it doesn't mean you're not a wonderful mother.” He slipped a comforting arm along the back of the sofa, behind her head. “Has his father ever been part of his life?”

“His father doesn't know.” And then, because she wanted to avoid a lecture, because she was tired of thinking about it, and because she was more than a little drunk, Joey added a lie. “He had already left when I found out I was pregnant.”

“I'm sorry, Josephine.” Greg put down his wine and covered her hand with his. “Did you love him a great deal?”

Joey thought about reading fairy tales in the cramped hold of _True Love_. She thought about her son's name. “Once upon a time,” she said with a biting laugh. She drained her glass.

*~*~*~*

Even the deepest obsession of a four-year-old is a passing phase. By springtime, Andersen's questions about his father were only as common as questions about airplanes, and less frequent than inquiries about dinosaurs.

Joey's brilliant plan to get Doug out of the closet had only resulted in Jack being shoved halfway in it, once they started dating each other. She spent many evenings listening to Jack, at varying levels of intoxication, express the misery of dating someone so uncomfortable with who he was.

“If it's so awful, why don't you stop seeing him?”

Jack laughed bitterly. “You, of all people, should recognize how hard it is to stop loving a Witter.”

“But I, of all people, am proof that it can be done,” she returned with a cheery smile.

Jack rolled his eyes. Or tried to. He was pretty drunk. “You're a better liar than you used to be. That's the only difference I can see.”

“Your vision is a bit blurry at the moment, old friend. I happen to be one hundred percent in love with Greg.”

“Greg,” Jack scoffed. “Who falls in love with a guy named Greg?”

“Who falls in love with a guy named Doug?”

That shut him up.

*~*~*~*

Joey and Andersen spent a month that summer sharing a cabin in Maine with Greg and his kids. Joey was not by any means ready to have a conversation about sleeping arrangements with her precocious son, so she had one room, the kids had the other, and Greg slept on the fold-out couch. She volunteered to switch off nights for the bed, but he wouldn't hear of it. 

Andersen loved the trees and the trails, disappearing for hours with Bella and Brandon, coming home filthy and glowing with joy. Joey reveled in her son's happiness and in a whole month with nothing to do. 

She thought about taking up a sketchpad and drawing, but no sight held her interest long enough. She thought about getting out her notebook, but once she learned that stories which began with _Once upon a time_ didn't end with _happily ever after,_ there was nothing more to say.

She basked in the motionless calm.

~*~

**I.**

Joey's third book was for Jen and Grams. The story of a princess who ran away from her cruel king father and lost herself in a dark wood until she was found by a witch, who turned out to be a fairy godmother in disguise. The witch taught the princess how to save herself, and the princess lifted the curse which hid the fairy's beauty.

The publishers expected it to sell better than Joey's first two books combined. Her name was becoming recognizable, and the feminist take on a princess tale had critics and moms' groups salivating. Joey's agent insisted on a nationwide tour this time.

Six weeks away from Pacey sounded unendurable, but six weeks away from Anders was not an option. So Joey called in a favor from Gretchen—she and Dawson were in L.A. now—and her sister-in-law agreed to be temporary nanny. Truth be told, Gretchen didn't take much convincing; a cross-country road trip with her favorite nephew was speaking her language.

Pacey joined them for three days in Arizona. By then, Joey had been on the road for a month, more than enough time to convince her of two things. 

“One, I am never spending so long away from home again, I don't care what anyone says.”

Pacey smiled lazily at her from across their motel bed. “I approve.” He ran his knuckles from the bottom of her spine to the nape of her neck. Joey shivered. “And two?”

Joey traced his eye crinkles with light fingers. His five o'clock shadow tickled the palm of her hand. “I want another baby, Pace.”

Pacey's expression stretched into an enthusiastic, joy-filled grin. “Yeah?”

Joey nodded against her pillow, a shy smile growing to match his. “Yeah.”

“I think we should probably get to work on that.” Pacey closed the distance between them, rolling on top of her. “Right now.”

“That was cheesy and cliché, even for you,” Joey scoffed.

But Pacey brushed the hair off her forehead and looked at her in the way that turned her body liquid, and she forgot to care.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

“I'm pregnant,” Jen blurted out as soon as Joey answered the phone.

“Uh, congratulations?” Joey couldn't tell from Jen's tone whether that was in order or not.

“Thanks. I'm both excited and terrified, so I thought I'd make the first of many, many calls to the most competent single mother I know.”

“Sorry, Bessie's not here right now. You're stuck with me.”

“Har, har. Anyway, Bessie's not a single mother, Bodie's there.”

“Have you told Oscar?” Oscar was the atrocious name of the atrocious boyfriend. Jack and Joey were united in their belief in the idiocy of falling in love with men named Oscar.

“Not yet. Tomorrow night, he's taking me out to dinner. I hope he'll be happy, but even if he's not, I'm keeping the baby. I think about how much I love Anders, and I know this is the right choice for me.”

“Well, definitely congratulations then. I wish I could be there to hold back your hair while you acquire the radiant glow that results from puking your guts out for three solid months.”

Jen laughed. “I'm surprised by how little morning sickness I've had so far. But the desperate desire to top my bagels with ketchup and bacon is kinda weirding me out.”

They compared food cravings and other early pregnancy woes for a while before hanging up. Joey prayed she wouldn't get a call from a heartbroken Jen the next night, that the atrocious Oscar would prove better than his name.

*~*~*~*

The phone call didn't come the next night, or the night after that. Joey began to feel her fears were misplaced, when it finally arrived.

“He left. He said he was excited. Even though I knew he was lying, I thought his trying to be meant he would get there. Then I dropped by his apartment today, and he was just...gone. All his stuff vanished, no forwarding address.”

“Rat bastard.”

Jen's laugh had tears in it. “Totally. He could have told me he wanted nothing to do with it or me. I'm not the stalking type, and what kind of child support would I expect from a penniless artist?”

“Screw him, Jen. He's not worth a moment's regret. You have to focus on you now, you and your baby.”

“Yeah.” Jen's voice sounded distant, uncertain. “You know what, Joey? For the first time, I think maybe you were right not to tell Pacey.”

Joey watched her son sort through the pile of postcards on his bed and knew, not for the first time, that she had been wrong.

~*~*~

**II.**

Pacey entered the office, staring at his phone, a puzzled look on his face.

“What's wrong?”

He snapped his head up and smiled at Joey. She had opted to continue working at Taylor's, though most of her income came from her paintings. Grad school was shelved for the moment, under the heading, Maybe Someday.

“Not wrong, exactly. Just weird. I was talking to Lindley. She's pregnant.” Pacey had done a much better job keeping in touch with Jen and Jack since they moved to New York than Joey had.

“Pregnant? Wow. Is the father involved?”

Pacey shook his head. “She says no, but she's keeping it. She sounds excited.”

“Well, good for her.” Joey gathered up her easel and art supplies. “I'm off to paint another boat. I swear, some days I'd kill to paint literally anything else.” She gave Pacey a swift kiss. “See you later.”

Painting boats no longer swallowed Joey's whole attention. The sea breeze and the lapping of the waves gave her mind freedom to wander. That day, her thoughts on Jen's pregnancy led her back by degrees to thoughts of her own. That short-lived time felt ages ago, almost like an event from someone else's life. Jen seemed young to be having a baby now, but she was five years older than Joey was then. She was about the same age as Bessie was when she found out she was pregnant with Alexander.

Then Joey was thinking not of other people's pregnancies, nor of her own past, but of the future. A child with her pointed chin and Pacey's unruly hair. The poor thing would have a double dose of tall and would probably find klutziness inescapable. It would love the sea.

Joey daydreamed the afternoon away, then shoved the idea of a baby onto the shelf labeled Maybe Someday.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey's second year of teaching went better than her first. She knew what to expect now, and she had Greg in her corner.

Andersen's November birthday missed the cutoff for kindergarten, so he was spending one more year in preschool. Joey thought this a good thing; she worried his hyperactivity would get him in trouble at school, and she didn't want him labeled a bad seed from the start, the way his father had been.

He had so much of his father in him. This filled Joey with the desire to protect her son from any of the harsh negativity Pacey had suffered in his youth, as if she could somehow undo the effects of the wrongs done Pacey through his son.

Jen's pregnancy knit them even closer together, Joey being put in the unfamiliar role of wise sage to Jen's eager listener. But when Jen told Joey about her heart condition, Joey had nothing she could say.

When she got off the phone, though, Joey called Andie in med school, apologized for popping up out of the blue, and begged her to pull every string she knew to help Jen. Then she called Dawson in L.A. and did the same. She was even desperate enough to ask Greg to speak to his doctor ex-wife about it.

Unable to believe any of it would help, Joey took a page out of Mrs. Ryan's book. She started praying.

~*~

**I.**

Joey's was not a solitary pregnancy this time. Within three months of her doctor's confirmation, she received phone calls from both Jen and Gretchen. They formed a sort of bi-coastal support group. 

Joey was grateful for her healthy, relatively easy pregnancy. Jen was vague about her problems, but she was in and out of the hospital several times. Gretchen started spotting in her first trimester and spent the rest of her pregnancy on doctor-mandated bedrest. Every time Joey started to complain about backaches or morning sickness, she thought of her friends and shut her mouth.

Miraculously, all three babies were safely delivered. Joey and Jen made a pact that Elisa Joy Witter and Amy Evelyn Lindley were going to grow up best friends if their mothers had to bend time and space to make it happen, while Gretchen proved she really was the perfect woman for Dawson when she agreed to name their son Steven.

Joey devoted every minute to enjoying her daughter's infancy, the way she was unable to do with Anders. Her firstborn was not thrilled about this tiny, soft disruption to his life, especially since she didn't even have the decency to be a boy, but he would come around with time. 

Pacey, on the other hand, was over the moon. Joey thought she had seen the full measure of his gentleness with her and with their son, but that was nothing to how he was with Elisa. He treated his daughter as though she were made of fine china, something fragile and precious beyond measure. Joey fell in love with him all over again.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

It was after one on a Friday in mid-April when an office aid brought in the sticky note. _Jack McPhee called. Jen in labor. He'll pick you up after school._

Joey barely kept focus through the afternoon lessons. During recess, she called Bessie, let her know what was going on, and arranged for her to pick up Andersen from preschool.

The elementary school let out half-an-hour earlier than the high school, so when Jack pulled up outside, Joey didn't even let him park before jumping into the car.

It was a three hour drive from Capeside to New York, more with traffic. Jack must have broken every law on the books, because he got them to the hospital door in two and a half hours.

Mrs. Ryan, looking frailer and older than at New Year's, the last time Joey had seen her, rose to greet them as they ran into the waiting room. Mrs. Lindley was in the delivery room with Jen. Mrs. Ryan wanted to be there, too, but her daughter thought she didn't have the strength for the long ordeal.

“Stuff and nonsense,” Mrs. Ryan huffed. But she looked tired. “They have everything prepared for an emergency C-section, if it looks like Jennifer's heart can't handle the labor. But there are risks with the surgery, too.”

Jack and Joey went to check on her progress with the ward administrator. There were strict limits on who was allowed in the delivery room. Jack got in by pretending to be the father, but Joey returned to wait out the long night by Grams' side, holding her hand.

Joey's entire focus was on Jen and her baby. Perhaps it was because her mind had never been further from the idea that this was the moment Pacey Witter walked back into her life.

Or, rather, ran. He saw Mrs. Ryan as he hurried off the elevator. “I got here as fast—”

Joey's head popped up in shock. Pacey's words and steps both ceased instantly.

“Joey,” he breathed.

Pacey was oddly dressed in a red baseball cap and what looked like one of Bodie's chef outfits, also red. Both were emblazoned with the name of some Manhattan eatery Joey remembered Jen praising. Apart from the bizarre costume, he looked good, a little leaner, standing a tad straighter than the Pacey in memory. His eyes, however, were the same deep blue she saw every day in the face of her son. Two brow lines had started to form at the bridge of his nose, and his five o'clock shadow was at least a day overdue for a shave. He wasn't wearing a wedding ring, but not all men did.

“Pacey,” she managed to choke out. For the life of her, Joey had no idea what to say next.

Pacey shook himself out of an equally absorbed inspection of her and turned back to Mrs. Ryan. “How is she? I came straight from work.”

Mrs. Ryan consulted her watch. “Hour fourteen of labor. It could be over any moment, or it could stretch on twice this long. Perhaps you two would like to fetch us some coffee? I'm sure you have much to say to one another.” She gave Joey a pointed stare which froze the refusal on Joey's lips.

Joey stood without a word, stretching out muscles cramped from hours sitting in an uncomfortable chair. She followed Pacey back toward the elevator; he was headed downstairs to the cafeteria. Joey could have told him there was a coffeepot near the nurses' station, but that would require the ability to form words, something she felt incapable of doing.

There were several other people on the elevator, validating her temporary muteness. Joey suspected she and Pacey were taking turns glancing at each other, but she never caught his eye. Three floors down, more people got on, and Joey was forced to step closer to him. Their arms brushed. Joey jumped like she'd put her finger in a light socket.

 _This can't be happening. Not now, not after all these years._ It was probably nervous tension. She was wound tighter than a bowstring, and any touch—from anyone at all—would have sent her reeling.

The main lobby was on the floor above the cafeteria. A mass exodus there made Joey's logical reasoning fall apart. Being shoved by the crowd caused her neurons nothing but irritation; being caught by Pacey's big hands on her forearms sent them firing alarms to every part of her body.

 _Why is it him? Why is it always him?_ Joey thought, looking up at his carefully expressionless face. She was irritated with her body, with the biological chemistry trying to convince her she felt something she had long ago decided not to feel.

Joey pushed herself away from him, to the other side of the much emptier elevator. The cafeteria was bustling, crowded and noisy, like every part of New York. Pacey's tall frame carved a path to the coffee machine which Joey trailed after. At one point, he started to reach a hand back for her, thought better of it, and let it drop back to his side.

There was what Joey judged to be a five to ten minute line for coffee. Once they'd reached it, Pacey turned to her with a large, almost genuine smile. “It's good to see you again, Potter.”

“You too, Pace.” The soft words escaped without her volition. She hoped he couldn't hear them in the crowd.

“So how's life been treating you? It's funny, Jen's told me the life history of almost everyone I ever met in high school. But not you. You are the proverbial lost gospel.”

Joey hoped her expression gave away as little as his. “That's probably because there's not much to tell. I teach at the elementary school in Capeside.”

“Capeside? I thought you'd be outta there for good before the ink on your diploma dried.”

“Yeah, well, life happens. Plans change.” Joey didn't know if she had the courage to tell him about Andersen, but she knew, if she did, it wouldn't be here, like this. So she cut him off with a question of her own. “What about you? Last I heard, you were the happy newlywed in France; now, you're working in New York?”

“Life happens. Plans change,” Pacey shot back at her. They'd reached the front of the line. Pacey grabbed a black coffee for himself, and another—cream, no sugar—for Grams, while Joey filled a cup of her own.

They forced their way back through the mob to the elevator. Joey wasn't unwilling to resume their conversation; her mind buzzed with a hundred questions, a thousand things she wanted to tell him. But once again, the elevator was packed. She stood in his protective shadow, looking down at where his sturdy black boots barely brushed the toe of her blue work flats.

“Maybe, when this is over, we could go somewhere and talk.” Pacey's deep voice seemed to issue from a great distance above her.

Joey lifted her head and smiled, heart pounding at his matching grin. “I'd like that.”

When they reached maternity, Mrs. Ryan had changed places with Jack. He hurried toward them, with only a swift, searching glance at the long-parted pair. “She's had the baby. Come see.” He grabbed Joey's wrist and pulled her down the hall to Jen's room, with Pacey trailing behind.

Jen glanced up with an exhausted, slightly drugged smile. “There's the other half of my Mommy & Me Club. Come meet Amy.”

Joey approached the new mother and child, not risking a glance back at Pacey, whose steps fumbled in the doorway.

“Potter? You have a kid?”

“She's beautiful,” Joey crooned at Jen, touching the almost translucent newborn skin.

“Thanks, Joey.” Jen's eyes rocketed between Joey and Pacey, realizing her mistake.

“Like her mother,” Mrs. Ryan added. She looked almost as fatigued as Jen, but blissfully content as she sat by her granddaughter's side.

“You have a kid, Jo?” Pacey repeated.

Joey stiffened. “I do.” She didn't turn away from Jen and her little miracle.

“That's fantastic! How old?” Pacey asked in utter innocence. When not a voice answered him, and no one met his eye, he asked again, in a different tone completely. “How old, Joey?”

“He's five.” Joey tried to sound indifferent, but she still couldn't look at him.

“ _He's...five_...” Pacey took an audible breath in the silent room, then stepped forward and wrapped his fingers around Joey's bicep with just short of bruising force. “Congratulations, Jen, she is beautiful. Joey, we need to talk.”

Part of her wanted to resist his dominance, but she knew she'd find no support in that room. This was the fitting harvest of the lies she'd sown six years ago. Joey allowed Pacey to drag her out of Jen's room and down the hallway, wondering vaguely when and where they'd set down their untouched coffees.

Showing astonishingly lucid thinking, Pacey pushed open the door to the stairway. The sixteenth floor stairwell was likely one of the only places in this whole ammonia-reeking nightmare of a building empty of people. He pulled Joey in with him, then spun around to face her. For a long time, he did nothing but stare at her face, while Joey made a mental record of the chips in the walls' whitewash.

Joey could bear it no longer. “Pacey, you're hurting me.” She made a futile effort to free her arm from his grip.

Pacey loosened his hold but did not let go. “Is he mine, Jo?” His voice crackled with barely restrained emotion.

“Yes,” Joey whispered.

“Fuck!” Pacey released her so suddenly she fell back a step. He kicked the railing, which rang with a hollow echo. “Goddammit, Potter, why didn't you tell me?”

“I, I didn't...I don't...”

“Did you know before I left? The first time. Did you know then?”

Joey felt like the sinner on the Day of Judgment, compelled to honesty by his blazing eyes. “Yes.”

“And Boston? You knew I was in Boston, right?”

“Yes.” Joey wrapped her arms around herself in a futile attempt to stop shaking.

Pacey turned away from her completely. He grabbed the rail with both hands, squeezed hard enough to make it clang, to make Joey fear it would go tumbling over and take Pacey with it. “You hate me that much?”

“What!? I don't hate you.”

“You must. You must because no one who felt even a shred of love, even the memory of love in her soul could do this to me.”

“Pacey—”

“What's his name?” Pacey cut her off, twisting back to face her. 

“Andersen. Andersen Obadiah Potter. We call him Anders, for short.”

“Andersen. Do you have a picture?”

“They're in my purse.” Her purse which was somewhere with her missing coffee. She hoped in Jen's room.

“Doesn't matter. I'll be seeing him soon enough.” Pacey stepped closer to her. The air between them vibrated with a different energy than the tension in the elevator. “I'm going to Capeside, and I'm meeting my son, and, if you try to stop me, I will drag you through every court in the land to get the rights you tried to deny me.”

Joey stood her ground. On this charge, at least, she was innocent. “I won't stop you, Pacey.” She could have said more, could have said how Andersen was dying to meet him, how she'd never told their son anything but the best about his father, could have begged him not to steal her child from her.

But with a sound of disgust, Pacey turned on his heel and raced down the steps, as though sixteen stories wasn't space enough to put between them.

*~*~*~*

Jack decided to stay the weekend with Jen and her new daughter, but Joey had a panicked need to return to her son as fast as possible. She didn't really believe Pacey would be so stupid or cruel as to steal Andersen away, but she wouldn't feel right until he was back in her arms.

“So that could have gone better,” Jack remarked, as he drove her to the train station. The subway would have been faster, but he'd insisted. Joey imagined he was acting on Jen's orders to find out what had happened.

“It could have gone worse. He could have strangled me, instead of the banister.”

Jack whistled. “That bad, huh?”

“I've never in my life seen Pacey that angry,”

“What did you expect, Joey? You kept the truth about his kid from him for six years! That's a third of Anders' childhood he'll never get to experience.”

Joey winced. She'd never considered it in such bald terms before. “I don't know how to fix it.”

“You can't fix it. All you can do is live with it.”

“He hates me,” she whispered into the dark car.

“Yeah, well, you'll have to live with that, too.”

*~*~*~*

Bessie took one look at Joey's face when she opened the door and gasped. “Oh, no! Is it Jen? What happened?”

“Jen's fine. The baby's fine. A little girl, Amy. Is Andersen sleeping?” She pushed into the B&B, shrugging off her coat.

“Of course he's sleeping. It's the middle of the night. Joey, what—” Bessie shut the door and padded after Joey as she made a beeline for Alex's room.

Joey paused in the doorway, breathing freely again at the sight of her son resting on his small trundle bed. The moon shone on him through Alex's open blinds, lighting the roundness of his face, the errant curl of hair across his forehead.

“Joey, what's going on?” Bessie whispered. She closed the door on the sleeping boys and led Joey by the hand to the kitchen.

“He's back.” Joey stood in the middle of the dark room, at a loss what to do with herself.

Bessie didn't pretend not to understand. She drew a sharp breath. “Pacey? You saw him? Does he know?”

“He does now. And he's coming here to see him, and I don't know what to do.” Joey found herself doubled over, gasping for air in a room full of it.

Bessie led Joey to a seat and made her breathe into a paper bag, rubbing her back and making soothing noises until she calmed. “It's okay, Joey. It's going to be all right. So Andersen is going to meet his father. That's not the end of the world. Most children do, you know.”

“What if he tries to take him from me?”

“Even if he does—and you have no way of knowing that—no court in the state would give him full custody. You're a great mother, Joey; plenty of witnesses would testify to that. And Pacey is a will-o'-the-wisp, the very definition of a flight risk.”

“You're right,” Joey mumbled. “Of course, you're right.”

“Right. And if I know that, and you're the smart one, surely you figured that out already. So want to tell me what the panic attack was all about?”

Joey struggled to find words. “He makes me feel so...Bessie, he makes me _feel_.”


	9. Chapter 9

**IV.**

Joey spent what remained of the night at her sister's. The next day, she took Andersen home. She tried to pretend everything was normal, took Andersen to the beach to play, but her eyes were everywhere, as though she expected Pacey to jump out from behind every rock and bush.

Joey canceled her evening plans with Greg, claimed fatigue from her New York trip. She told him about Jen and her baby; she neglected to mention Pacey.

It rained all day Sunday. Joey was secretly glad for the excuse to stay in the apartment, where it was safe. She and Anders played board games, read stories, cuddled up and watched _E.T._ They baked brownies from a mix; he played with toys while she made dinner.

Joey knew who it was the minute the door buzzed. She raced toward the intercom, but Anders got there first. “Who is it, please?” he said, the way Joey taught him, but he pressed the wrong button. He opened the outer door.

“Andersen, this is the button for talking. This one lets people in. You're never supposed to let anyone in, unless it's an emergency and it's someone you know, remember?” The whole time she lectured her son, Joey was attuned to the sound of footsteps climbing the stairs.

“I remember, Mom. I'm sorry.” Andersen didn't look sorry. He was bouncing on his heels, probably excited at the prospect of company after a lonely day trapped indoors.

The footsteps stopped. A knock at the door.

“I'll get it!” Andersen chirped.

Joey froze, too scared to protest. Andersen twisted the deadbolt, turned the knob. Pacey stood there, as she knew he would; green, button-down shirt, open at the neck, khaki pants, impossibly tall and bright and _there_. Joey's heart hammered painfully against her ribcage.

Pacey squatted in front of Andersen, whose mouth had fallen comically open. “Hey, buddy. You don't know me, but my name is—”

“Daddy!” Andersen, never shy with strangers, flung himself upon his father's neck with such abandon Pacey fell back a step. Then his arms rose to wrap around the little boy, and he stood, twirling them both around and laughing.

Joey's heart turned over in her chest. She stood, holding the door, afraid to say a single word and ruin the moment.

“Look, Mom. Daddy's here!”

Pacey looked at Joey for the first time. His hold on Andersen didn't change, but his smile fell, blue eyes lost their warmth. “Hello, Joey.”

“Pacey.” She hoped she sounded as cool as he did, but knew she failed. Hatred was a difficult emotion to fake.

“I was hoping I could take Andersen to dinner, if you haven't eaten already.” The request was formally polite, but his tone dared her to deny him.

“Of course. Anders, sweetie, go get your shoes and coat.”

Andersen wiggled out of Pacey's arms, too excited to notice the discord between his parents. With a whoop, he ran to his room.

“Do you want to come in while you wait?” Joey opened the door wider.

Pacey surveyed the room beyond her as if it was enemy territory, as though there might be an ambush waiting for him. “No, I'm good.”

Joey filled the awkward silence with a litany of instructions. “He's allergic to strawberries, and he'll pretend to gag on vegetables if you let him get away with it. Tomorrow's a school day, so his bedtime is eight o'clock, and he'll need a bath first.”

“I'll try to have him home by seven, then.”

Andersen raced back into the room. “Ready!” He had worn his sneakers with the Velcro straps, so Joey didn't have to fix the laces, but she leaned over to straighten the buttons on his jacket.

“Have fun, sweetie. Be good for your dad.” She kissed her son's forehead and stroked his hair.

Andersen shrugged off the caress. He was going through a tough guy phase. “Mom, stop! Let's go, Dad.” He beamed like he couldn't imagine a better word in the English language.

Joey watched them go down the stairs, then rushed to the window to see them fight through the storm to Pacey's car—actually, Doug's, Joey recognized it. At least there wasn't much chance Pacey would skip town in the sheriff's own vehicle.

Once they drove away, Joey turned back to her empty apartment, wondering what to do with herself. She abandoned her half-started dinner in favor of leftover Chinese food, a glass of wine, and too many brownies. Ignoring her own rule about tidying after himself, she cleaned up Andersen's messes of the day.

There was still more than an hour before she could expect them home. Joey decided she should watch one of the backlogged episodes of Dawson's show. She always meant to watch, but with an inquisitive five-year-old in the house, most of her television viewing was spent in the relative safety of cartoons, while recordings of _The Creek_ continued to pile up.

Joey found the show entrancing and nostalgic, if somewhat biased towards Dawson's point of view. The girl who played the Jen character—her name was Veronica in the show—was a terrible actress, and the guy playing Pacey—Petey—didn't have a tenth of his charisma. But those were minor squabbles.

The episode Joey watched was full of Petey and Sam— _The Creek_ 's attempt at her—bickering while Colby—Dawson—opined that his best friends needed to stop hating each other. Of course, what was obvious in the context of the show was that Petey and Sam were fighting not out of loathing, but as an outlet for sexual tension.

Joey thought back over her own youth and adolescence. Had it really been that way with her and Pacey from the start? If so, Dawson certainly hadn't realized it, any more than his onscreen alter-ego did. But Joey hadn't seen it, either. Had someone asked her at any time before the age of sixteen whether she and Pacey hated each other, she would have answered a quick and easy yes. But not once, at the height of their feud, had Pacey looked at her the way he did tonight. He might have called her every name in the book, but he always had her back when it mattered. As she had his.

She didn't know if she had always wanted Pacey, still less if she had always loved him, but Joey knew she had never honestly hated him. She couldn't bear his hating her.

At 7:00 on the nose, the door buzzed. Joey knew who it was; to reinforce her point with her son, she pressed the intercom anyway. “Who's there, please?”

“It's me, Mom. And my daddy's with me!” The joy in Andersen's voice was a dart of mingled pain and love in Joey's breast.

She let them in and opened the door before they reached the top of the stairs. “How'd it go?”

“Great, Mom. We had pizza, and we went to the arcade, and Dad won me this.” He brandished a new action figure. “Dad's really, really good at skeet ball!”

“That's wonderful, sweetie. Now, say goodnight to your dad and go get out of your wet things. I'll be in to run your bath in a minute.”

“I can do it myself. I'm not a baby!” Anders flipped around and wrapped his arms around Pacey's knees. “Night, Daddy. Thanks for the Green Ranger. He's awesome! Can we do this again tomorrow?”

Pacey knelt to hug Anders more fully. “I'll have to talk to your mom about that, but I promise I'll see you soon. Night, kiddo.” He tightened his grip momentarily, and Joey could see the awe in his face that this small person was actually _his_. Then he released the boy and gave him a nudge toward the door.

Andersen ran through the living room, without bothering to take off his wet shoes first. Joey just shook her head.

“So can I have him tomorrow after school?”

Joey was surprised. “I suppose so. How long are you staying?”

“For good. I quit my job in New York. I'm bunking with Doug until I find a job and a place of my own. You didn't think I'd meet him once and go my merry way, did you? He's my _son_.”

No, Joey hadn't thought Pacey would disappear again. But she also hadn't counted on him changing his entire life in an instant. “That's...good. Andersen will be happy. What about your wife?”

Pacey snorted. “No wife. That...didn't last long.”

“Oh. I'm sorry,” Joey lied. She wasn't sorry, not a bit. She was positively gleeful, and she hated what that said about her.

Pacey shrugged as though her thoughts couldn't matter less to him. “So I can have Anders tomorrow? Where's his preschool? I could pick him up from there, and spare us both one awkward scene out of two.”

Joey tried not to react. He didn't even want to see her. “Uh, it's Sunnyside, the one kitty-corner from the school. But I'll have to add you to the approved contact list, or they won't let you take him. They'll, uh, they'll need a phone number.” She couldn't help that it sounded like she was trying to get Pacey's number; it was the truth.

“You got a pen?”

Joey went inside to grab one, leaving the door open behind her to see if Pacey would walk in. He didn't. When she returned, he had pulled a business card from his wallet. Their fingers brushed as she handed him the pen. Joey wasn't sure which of them pulled away faster.

“This is my cell number,” Pacey said, as he wrote against the door jam. “If they need another, you can give them Doug's for now.”

Joey was careful when retrieving the card and pen not to let her skin touch his, ridiculously careful, as though he was infectious. “All right. I'll arrange it. You can pick him up any time after three. Try to have him home—”

“By seven. I know.”

Joey expected Pacey to turn tail and leave once the matter with their son was resolved, but he lingered in the doorway. He watched her with a curious expression, not the hateful iciness from earlier, but not the old, familiar warmth either. He seemed wary.

“What?” she asked.

“He knew me. Tonight, when he opened the door, Andersen knew me right away. Did you spend the weekend preparing him?”

“I didn't need to. He's known about you for a long time. I wouldn't lie to my son.”

Hardness settled over Pacey's face. “No, you wouldn't, would you? You save that for me.” He left without a farewell.

After locking the door, Joey went to check on Andersen. The bathroom door was shut, but she could hear the familiar sounds of him playing in the bath. Because privacy was an important concept to Anders these days, she knocked and stayed outside as she told him, “Time to get out, sweetie. Don't forget to brush your teeth, then meet me in your room for stories.”

“Okay, Mom.”

Joey lingered in the hallway until she heard the water start to drain, then went to her room to change into her own lavender flannel pajamas. She emerged into the hall at the same time as her son.

“Hey, Mom, guess what?”

Joey smiled at his clean, fresh-smelling appearance and his Power Ranger jammies. “What?”

“I almost forgot to tell you the best part. Dad says he's not a sailor anymore. He's a chef, like Uncle Bodie.” He flashed her a confident smile as he walked ahead of her into his room. “That means he'll stay.”

*~*~*

**III.**

They flew out to California to visit Dawson and Jen after the birth of their little girl. The couple had been on-again, off-again through college, but now were quite settled together, although—to Mrs. Ryan's chagrin—still unmarried.

“I told Dawson he could name it Steven if it was a boy, but I felt all along she was a girl.” Jen lay in state in their Malibu beach home. She was on bed-rest, doctor's orders, but looked glowing and happy as she cradled her newborn daughter.

“You know, Amy Irving was Steven Spielberg's first wife,” Dawson teased.

Jen glared at him. “You will not ruin this for me. Our daughter's name has nothing to do with your ridiculous man-crush.”

Dawson sputtered, Pacey laughed, but Joey tried to read Jen's face for signs of illness. Jen had downplayed all mentions of the heart defect they'd discovered during her pregnancy, but Dawson had let them into the secret that, without a transplant, Jen was living on borrowed time.

She was on the list, and Dawson was doing everything he could to expedite the process, but, for obvious reasons, the system was largely manipulation-proof. In the meantime, he was a nervous mother hen, employing a nurse for Jen and a nanny for the baby, neither of which she wanted.

“Go introduce Pacey to the pool,” Jen ordered her hovering paramour. “Joey and I are going to girl talk.”

“Jo is terrible at girl talk,” Pacey warned as he rose to leave. “You'd get better gossip if you waited for Jackers to visit this summer.”

“Are you sure you don't want Cynthia to take the baby? If you're tired...”

“Honey, you're annoying me again. Get out.”

Dawson obeyed, pausing to kiss both girlfriend and daughter on the head. 

“I imagine you're on his side,” Jen said as soon as they were alone.

“It's not a matter of sides, Jen. Dawson's worried about you. We all are.”

“Grams is undergoing her third round of chemo, and yet she has all her prayer groups on round-the-clock vigils for me. Jack calls me almost every hour; if I don't pick up, he calls Dawson in a panic. My hired nurse is a great brute who scowls if I so much as get out of bed to piss. Dawson's going to go bald if he doesn't stop pulling on his hair like that. Trust me, I get how worried everyone is. But I also know worrying won't fix anything. If it's my time, it's my time. And I'd rather spend whatever is left to me—be that weeks or decades—enjoying my life than dreading my death.”

“If that's how you feel, why haven't you staged a revolt yet?”

“Well, for one, I'm still tired from labor. It's easy to hate bedrest on principle, but in reality, it's pretty great. Especially when you've got a little one like this enjoying it with you.” She kissed Amy's fuzzy down head. “And for another, I was hoping an ally might smooth the way for me.”

Joey fidgeted awkwardly. “Jen, if the doctor thinks it's best, I don't see how I can—”

Jen burst out laughing. Amy stirred and let out an adorable little sigh before settling back to sleep. “God, Joey, did you think I meant you? You're the only person I know who worries as perpetually as Dawson. I meant Pacey. I recruited him yesterday, so he should be laying the groundwork with Dawson now.”

Joey rolled her eyes at Jen's subterfuge. “So no need for girl talk after all, huh?”

“You can do my nails if you want, but Nurse Ratchet will just remove it later. She needs to see if they're turning blue.”

Joey paled.

“That was a joke.”

“Right.” Joey tried to make herself relax. She stared at the bundle in Jen's arms and blurted out the question that had been on her mind for months. “Why did you keep her?”

“When I found out about the defect, you mean?”

“Yeah.”

“A lot of reasons. She's not the one who gave me the heart problem, and aborting her wouldn't have cured it. Maybe having her quickened my timetable a bit, but it's also brought my life more joy than I ever thought I'd know. And I loved her before I knew what she might cost me, so it was an easy decision.”

For the first time in years, Joey thought about the pregnancy she had terminated. That had been an easy decision, as well. Now, with distance, she knew it had been the right one.

*~*~*

That evening, after dinner, Pacey asked Joey to walk with him on the beach. They rambled slowly, barefoot, hand-in-hand, while the sun went down in a brilliant blaze of pink, purple and orange.

Pacey chuckled. “I can't get over how disorienting this feels. A lifetime watching the ocean, and everything about this one is different.”

Joey had noticed it as well. Her directions were all confused, because the water wasn't on the right side. The tides were coming in the wrong way. The sun set over the sea, instead of rose. “Guess we'll never be West Coasters.”

“I don't know. I love the dress code. But you in L.A.? Traffic would not be pretty.”

Joey pulled Pacey's arm across her shoulders and snuggled closer to him as they walked. “Give me a crowded, smelly subway car any day of the week.”

They had lived in New York City since their return from Paris. Joey had a position as assistant editor at one of the city's many publishing firms, while Pacey was employed as sous chef at one of the new, hot eateries that sprang up almost daily in the city that never sleeps. Their apartment was even smaller than their first one, though in a nicer neighborhood.

“Do you think you'll want to live in the city your whole life, Jo?”

“Why? Are you sick of it already?”

“No.” Pacey turned to face the ocean, wrapping his body around hers. “I just miss this, the sound of the sea, the feel of the waves. Even if this one is backwards.”

Joey smiled, closing her eyes to better absorb the sounds and smells. “I'll grant you that New York harbor is lacking in ambiance.”

“Something else, too, Jo. I know we have plenty of time, and I don't want to rush—I like having you all to myself—but we've never talked about it, and holding Amy today...I started wondering, do you, maybe, possibly, want to have kids someday?”

Joey smelled the sea and the salt and Pacey. She listened to the waves lap gently at the shore. “Someday,” she promised.

~*~*~

**II.**

They went to New York to visit Jen shortly after the baby was born. Jen was still on bedrest for some reason, but Amy was alert, beautiful, and healthy. Pacey was enraptured. He played with her tiny fingers and toes and called on Joey to rhapsodize with him over her every feature.

Jen watched with mingled pride and amusement. “Maybe it's time you had one of your own,” she told Joey.

“Maybe it is,” Joey admitted.

Pacey beamed.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

It felt bizarre not to rush out the door to collect Andersen after school the next day. In the absence of anything else to do, Joey walked down the hall to Greg's classroom. She would have to let him know about the change in her life sooner or later.

She had forgotten it was Greg's week with his kids. Bella and Brandon always came to their father's classroom to wait after school. They beat her there.

“Josephine! What a pleasant surprise.” Greg gave her a swift kiss, then went back to sorting papers.

Brandon greeted her from behind his Gameboy, Bella from over her homework.

“No Andersen today? Is he with your sister?”

“No, he's...he's with his father.”

Greg stopped shuffling papers and blinked at her. His children both looked up, curious.

“How did that extraordinary state of affairs come to pass?”

Joey didn't feel like rehashing the whole story. Especially not in front of the kids. “He came back. He took Anders to dinner last night and picked him up from preschool today. I thought I'd see what your plans were, but I can—”

“Nonsense, Josephine. We're headed to the park as soon as we're done here. You're welcome to join us.”

Joey was tempted to decline. Watching other people's children play at the park was only a notch below Little League baseball on Joey's list of dull events, but then she thoughts about returning to her empty apartment and changed her mind. 

The walk to the park was full of the kids' chatter about their day. Greg and Joey walked a step behind. His hand, as always, hovered right behind her elbow. She normally found the habit endearing and wondered why it was suddenly so irritating.

 _Just a bad mood today_ , Joey thought and quickened her step.

Her mood was not improved when she turned the corner, heard her son laugh and caught sight of a tall man pushing him dangerously high on the swings. Joey's step faltered. She was about to excuse herself from the outing, but Brandon ran ahead, calling out to his friend, and Andersen spotted them.

While Andersen slowed to a stop, Joey made herself finish the walk to the park. She could hear Andersen's excited introductions of his father to his friends.

Greg's fingers brushed her arm. “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” Joey ignored the touch and took a seat on their usual bench.

Andersen pulled on Pacey's hand, dragging his reluctant father over to greet them. “Hi, Mr. Lawhead. This is my daddy. He's a chef now.”

Greg had not yet sat down. He held out a hand for Pacey to shake. “How do you do, Mr., uh, come to think of it, I've not heard the name.”

Pacey's large hand engulfed Greg's more scholarly one. He was a good three inches taller, as well. Not that this mattered to Joey. “Pacey Witter.”

“Witter? Any relation to our local sheriff?”

“He's my brother.”

“Really? I had no idea.” Greg sent Joey a searching, somewhat accusatory look.

“Well, they don't talk about me much. I'm the black sheep of the family.”

An instant defense rose to Joey's lips before she choked it back. She busied herself fixing the collar of Anders' shirt.

“I don't know about that. Not all men would respond so well to the addition to their life of a young boy, the result of a high school fling.”

It was Pacey's turn to throw Joey a surprised look. When he caught her eye, he raised an eyebrow, the meaning of which she knew immediately to be, _Really, Jo? This guy?_

Joey looked away and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“Daddy, Daddy!” Andersen tugged on Pacey's arm again. “Watch me cross the monkey bars. I can go the whole way, with no help. Come see!”

With an indulgent grin, Pacey trailed his son back to the playground.

Greg took the seat next to her. “So Uncle Doug is biologically Uncle Doug. You never told me.”

“I didn't? I guess I didn't think about it. What difference does it make?”

“None to me. Only I find it hard to understand how Andersen's father was never told about him when you've been friends with his brother all this time.”

“The Witters are a...complicated family. Pacey wasn't joking; he has been estranged from them for years.”

“And you couldn't have gotten a message to him if you'd tried?”

Joey watched as Pacey pushed all the kids on the merry-go-round. “I hope Andersen doesn't puke.”

“Josephine, you're deflecting. Why didn't you want this Pacey to know about your son? Is he dangerous? Did he hurt you?”

“What!? God, no! Look at the man.” She gestured at Pacey, zooming down the slide with Andersen in pursuit. “He's a big kid himself.”

“So that is why you rejected him as a father, his irresponsibility?”

Joey couldn't force the lie past her lips, but she nodded. It was as good a reason as any other, and much safer than the truth.

Relieved, Greg took a bracing breath of fresh air and wrapped her hand in his. He turned to watch the children play. Pacey took a dive and was tackled by Andersen, who he whisked up into the air.

“I must say, I find it almost impossible to imagine you ever dating a boy like that.”

“Most people did.” Joey was ashamed of how easily she could picture it even now.

*~*~*~*

Joey declined Greg's dinner invitation, claiming papers to grade. It wasn't a lie; she did have spelling tests to correct. But mostly, she had a burning desire to be out of his presence.

It wasn't until two hours and two glasses of wine later Joey unraveled the source of her irritation. She was furious with herself because her body didn't react the same way to Greg that it did to Pacey.

Joey loved Greg. He was a good man and a great father. He was intelligent, kind, and sensitive; he had never made her cry. He made her feel safe. And he _was_ a good lover; sure, it had taken some time to learn each other's bodies, but Joey had no complaints on that front.

But her body didn't hum with an innate awareness of his presence. She didn't feel electrified by his kisses, didn't come alive at his touch. She hated herself for that, and she loathed Greg for failing her in this one way, and she loathed Pacey for coming back into her life and reminding her of everything she didn't have.

 _Lust is chemical, and passion fades_ , Joey reminded herself. The stability Greg brought to her life, that was the real, the important, thing.

Pacey brought Andersen home shortly after Joey reached this important breakthrough. He asked for the next day with Andersen as well.

Joey made sure Anders was out of earshot before she asked, “Out of curiosity, are you actually going to look for a job, or just spend your days running around the park like an overgrown infant?” She knew her spite was uncalled for. She had found Pacey's play with Andersen charming, which was probably why she was so eager to tear it down.

“I got a job. I'll be the new lunch chef at Leery's. Bodie hired me this morning.”

Joey made a mental note to give that traitor a good, swift kick in the pants. “Oh. Congrats, I guess.”

Pacey's mouth tipped. “Not the most prestigious gig in the world, but it leaves me free to spend the afternoons with Anders.”

Joey bit back a retort about _her_ needing time with Anders, too. After five years, she owed Pacey more than three days.

*~*~*~*

The next evening, while her son was out with his father, Joey went to Leery's Fresh Fish for an early dinner, and to give Bodie a hard time. 

“I can't believe you hired Pacey!”

A few of the staff gave Joey odd looks as she slipped into the kitchen, but most knew her from her college years as a waitress here or from previous, kinder visits to Bodie.

Bodie was balancing about four different meals on the stove, so he didn't look at her, but he did answer. “Why wouldn't I? He's overqualified, of course, but when he said he wanted the job, I'd have been crazy to turn him away.”

“Pacey? _Over_ qualified? How?”

“He studied in Paris. He was sous chef at The Delta in New Orleans, and was about to be promoted to executive chef at Merlin's in New York when he left.”

“Pacey?” Joey repeated. She felt dizzy; in the absence of a chair, she leaned against one of the counters.

Francie, one of the waitresses since before Joey's day, saw her confusion and grinned. “Believe it. We all tasted his chowder this afternoon. I thought I'd died and gone to the bayou. No offense, Bodacious darling.” She winked as she sauntered out to the dining room with a precariously balanced tray of food.

“But—but— _Pacey_?”

“What's the problem here, Jo? Everyone grows up, and weren't you the one who kept saying Pacey had it in him to excel? Well, he has. Anyway, even if he wasn't as good as he is, I'd still have hired him, for Andersen's sake. A boy should know his father.”

“People keep saying that,” Joey groused, as she stole a shrimp from a cocktail.

*~*~*~*

Pacey continued taking Andersen on weekday afternoons, but he left the weekends to Joey, as Bodie asked him to take over evening shifts on the busiest days of the week. Joey didn't understand the move until she realized Leery's was packed like never before. Weekend seatings were reservation only, and, according to Bodie, lunch hour business was up forty percent.

Joey didn't know what to do with her sudden acquisition of free time. She took up sketching again, but all her drawings started out her son and somehow morphed into his father. She tried writing, but could only form too-late apologies and excuses for what she had done.

So she started jogging again. It had fallen by the wayside between work and mommy duties. But Joey loved the freedom of it, the rush of endorphin, the emptying her mind of everything but the road ahead.

One day, she ran by Andersen and Pacey at the seashore. “Hi, Mommy!” Andersen called.

Joey waved but did not slow. Pacey said nothing, but she felt his gaze tingle along her spine until they were out of sight. It was strangely satisfying.

She spent more time with Greg, as well. His kids were no substitute for her own, but they got along well. So well, in fact, that Greg was hinting at a deeper commitment. Joey ignored or deflected the suggestions. There was enough upheaval in other areas of her life. She didn't want this one steady thing to change.

*~*~*~*

“We should talk about this summer,” Pacey said one night while dropping Anders off.

Joey tried not to show her surprise. For weeks, he had given her only monosyllabic goodbyes at the door. But it was the last week of school. He was right; they should talk. “Okay. Would you like to come in?”

“No, thanks.” The refusal was expected, the thanks was not. “Anders says you take trips in the summer.”

“That's right. I want to spend a month in New York with Jen. I haven't seen Amy since the night she was born.”

Pacey flinched at the reminder.

“And Mrs. Ryan and Jen...I need to see them, and Andersen does, too.”

“Yeah, of course. If I take Mondays off, can I spend that day with him in the city?”

“That's more than fair. Thank you for understanding.” Joey squirmed, uncomfortable with her next announcement and not knowing why. “Greg and I want to take the kids back to a cabin in Maine for two weeks in August as well. Andersen had the time of his life up there last summer.”

For a moment, Pacey's mouth twisted in a disgusted sneer, but Joey blinked and his neutral mask was back. “Fine. But I'd like a week between your trips to take Anders fishing.”

“On...on a boat?” Panic swelled within her.

“That is generally how it works, yes. Pop agreed to lend me his, so I could teach my son. My goal is less yelling and crying than when my dad taught me.”

Joey snatched back her hand before it could squeeze his like it wanted to. “I'm not sure I'm comfortable with the idea of Anders on a boat for an entire week. He's only five.”

“You don't think I'll keep him safe?”

“I know you will. That's not what worries me.”

“What then?”

 _He'll fall in love with it_ , Joey thought. _He's your son, and the sea will take him from me, like it took you._

“He'll...he'll get bored and cause trouble.”

“More bored than in a New York apartment or a cabin in Maine? You're taking six weeks of the summer; I'm only asking for one.”

Resigned, Joey agreed. There was nothing else she could do.

*~*~*

**III.**

Someday arrived sooner than planned.

For their second wedding anniversary, Joey and Pacey rented a small sailboat and planned a somewhat abridged version of _True Love_ 's voyage. They only had one month, instead of three, but they wouldn't have to work along the way.

It wasn't until the second day that Joey realized she'd forgotten her pills at home. They could have turned back, or stocked up on condoms at the next port, or even called ahead a prescription. But Joey breathed the sea, the salt, Pacey. She heard the waves against the hull. She counted stars and took her chances.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

“You've been remarkably tight-lipped on the phone, Joey Potter, but no more evading. What's it like having Pacey back?”

Joey sighed. She'd seen the question brimming in Jen all day. She gave her friend credit for having the tact to wait until Andersen was asleep to ask it. Grams and Mrs. Lindley had retired, as well; Amy slept in a bassinet by Jen's side. Only the two young women were awake in the apartment, splitting a pint of Ben & Jerry's, for old times' sake.

Joey took another bite of rocky road before answering. “I haven't been evading, Jen. There's just nothing to say. He's great with Anders. You might have noticed from the way the boy never stops talking about him. But I only ever see him for the thirty seconds a night it takes him to drop off my son.”

Jen frowned, sucking ice cream off her spoon. “Is he still pissed at you?”

“Probably. How could he not be? But he never shows it, I assume out of consideration for Anders. We've bypassed seething hatred and live in the land of utter indifference.”

“Indifference? No way. I don't buy it. I'd believe the guy was plotting your death before I'd believe that Pacey Witter could _ever_ feel nothing for you.”

“Live the fantasy if you want, Jen, but you'll see the truth on Monday when he stops by to pick up Anders.”

Jen groaned. “This is totally unfair. I can count on my hands the number of times I've left this apartment since Amy was born. I was supposed to be getting a vicarious thrill through you, but your life sounds as boring as mine.”

“Well, not quite,” Joey said coyly. “I think Greg is going to ask me to move in with him.”

Jen choked on her ice cream. “God, I hope you're not considering it.”

Joey was hurt by her friend's derision, so she feigned an enthusiasm she didn't feel. “Why not? We've been dating for over a year now. Our kids get along. It makes sense.”

“Because _sense_ should be the primary factor in decisions like this.” Jen rolled her eyes. “I'm sorry, Joey, but I've seen you butt-crazy in love, and it wasn't with Greg.”

“I thought you liked Greg!”

“I do. Mostly. He's a bit of a patronizing ass, but there are worse flaws. What I loved was seeing you open yourself up to the possibility of love again. You hadn't done that since Pacey left. But that possibility never grew into anything. You just got comfortable.”

“There's nothing wrong with comfortable. I'm sure your doctors are telling you that about your heart, Jen. Avoid stresses, good or bad. Be comfortable. So why shouldn't our metaphorical hearts crave the same thing?”

“Because all my doctor's advice is designed to do is keep me from dying. You should be thinking about _living_. What's the number one stress in our lives? Our children. Would we trade them for all the staid comfort in the world? Of course not.”

“So you think I should end a happy, successful, long-term relationship in expectation of _what_ exactly? He doesn't want me!” The last sentence escaped, pained and unplanned.

“Joey.” Jen rested a sympathetic hand on her arm. “Whether he does or not, the fact that he's the one you're thinking about tells you everything you need to know.”

*~*~*~*

The doorman had just sent Pacey up. The four generations of Ryan women lived in the penthouse suite, though, so they had a minute. Joey used it to make sure Anders had everything he needed.

“There's an apple and some goldfish in your backpack, in case you get hungry. I don't know where your father's taking you, but you STAY with him at all times, mister, you got that?”

“Yes, Mom,” Andersen said, irritated, antsy. He'd missed his dad this week.

“This isn't Capeside. It's a giant city, and you could get lost in a moment.”

“And I should only talk to a policeman. I _know_ , Mom.” The bell rang. “He's here!” Andersen rushed to the door.

“Hey, kiddo.” Pacey picked up Anders and hugged him tight. “I sure did miss you.”

“Got any of that love for the rest of us?” Jen called from the couch. She'd been ordered to bedrest, and sitting was her compromise.

Pacey lowered his son and crossed the room to give his old friend a hug. “Hey, Lindley. You're still breathing?”

“Nothing wrong with my lungs. I just have to avoid heart-stoppingly attractive men like you.”

“Except not me in particular, because of your well-established immunity to my charms.”

“You have charm?”

“Dad, Dad, let's go, Dad!”

Pacey resisted Anders' efforts to redirect his attention. “Give me a minute, squirt. I seem to recall you having a kid of your own, Lindley. What's the matter with it, too ugly to display before company?”

“She's right here,” Mrs. Ryan announced, bringing Amy out from the nursery, post-diaper change. “And I'll trust you to watch your tongue about my beautiful great-granddaughter, Pacey Witter. It's no wonder little Amy doesn't like men.”

Pacey popped up from Jen's side to kiss Grams on the cheek. “Huh. She must really be yours then, Jen.”

Amy, who had recently mastered the difficult art of holding up her own head, eyed Pacey doubtfully. When he stroked her cheek with one gentle finger, she began to wail.

“Wow, you were serious. I'm sorry.”

Jen held out her arms for the baby. “Don't be. It's not just you. She does it every time Jack so much as looks at her.” Amy calmed as Jen snuggled her. “Crossing our fingers it's a phase.”

“Either that, or her school dances are going to be even more painful than ours,” Joey joked.

Pacey's eyes flitted to her, then his focus lasered back on Anders. “So you ready to go, kid?”

“I've been ready _forever_.” Andersen stamped his foot impatiently.

“Let's go then. Bye, Jen, Mrs. Ryan, nice to see you again. I'll have him back by seven.” They left without another glance in Joey's direction.

Jen let out a low whistle. “I didn't actually believe...I'm sorry, Joey.”

“I did warn you.” Joey forced a laugh. “It's okay. I'm used to it by now.”

Mrs. Ryan clucked her tongue. “You foolish girls, I've never seen a man work so hard to _not_ look at a woman.” She put a frail hand on Joey's arm. “The boy is hurting, deeply, but you're wrong if you think he doesn't care.”

A small seed of hope tried to take root with Mrs. Ryan's words. Joey crushed it. “Wanna bet?”

“I never gamble, Josephine. It is a sin.” Mrs. Ryan walked regally back to her room, turning at the door. “But if I did, I would win.”

*~*~*~*

The time with Mrs. Ryan and Jen was lovely, if bittersweet. Mrs. Ryan's doctors had made that terrible pronouncement, a year to live, which Joey remembered so well from her mother's illness. Grams and her family were bearing up well, but there was a poignancy now in all their interactions.

The combination of Jen's heart condition and new baby left her constantly exhausted. They did far less city-exploring and far more sitting around talking than in Joey's previous trips to the city.

Jack and Doug came up one weekend, and they all went to a Broadway show. When Jen teased Jack about reversing his long-held opinions—Jack considered musicals too gay for him—Jack lamented it was the one place in the world his boyfriend wasn't ashamed to be seen with him.

Pacey's trips to New York on the two successive Mondays were near duplicates of the first. He teased and flirted with Jen, was sweet and gentle to Grams, tried unsuccessfully to charm Amy, and ignored Joey as much as humanly possible. Then he whisked Anders away to parks, museums, zoos, amusement parks, and anything else he could cram into ten hours in NYC, bringing the little boy home exhausted and happy.

The last Monday of the month went differently.

Pacey arrived at the usual time, greeted Anders and Jen in the usual way, then looked straight at Joey and said, “Hey, Jo, can I run something past you?”

“Okay,” Joey agreed hesitantly. A nasty suspicion darted into her head. He wanted a formal custody agreement; he was taking her to court.

Jen saw Pacey look at the various rooms around them and said, “There's no reason to talk in private. Joey will tell me everything as soon as you leave anyway.”

“Jen is both nosy and correct. What's up, Pace?”

“Daddy, aren't we going out today?” Andersen whined.

“We are, kiddo, but I gotta talk to your mom first. Why don't you play with your toys? It won't be long.”

Anders gave an aggrieved sigh, but obediently went back to his Legos.

“I, uh, I take it Bessie and Bodie haven't cleared the way for me yet?”

Mystified, Joey shook her head. “I talked to Bess on Friday, but she didn't mention you. What's going on?”

“I made your sister a business proposition last week, but she said she wouldn't agree to anything without your consent, so I needed to talk to you.” Pacey shifted uncomfortably. He was probably thinking Joey was in no mood to grant him favors and wishing he hadn't been such an ass to her since he returned.

“I'm listening. Spit it out.”

“So everyday, I pass by the vacant lot where the Ice House used to be, and I started thinking how sad it was no one ever built a place there after the fire. From there, ideas fell all over themselves, and...well, every chef wants to own their own place someday. I started saving towards one nearly as soon as I started making a living at this. In a city like New York, it would be fifteen years before I could make that dream a reality, and I'd still probably fail. But in Capeside, I think I can make a go of it. 

“I've talked to Doug, and he's willing to help. I've talked to the bank, and I can get the financing I need. And I talked to Bessie. I told her I could either buy the land from her outright, or if she's willing, she could hold onto the land, just let me build on it. If I fail, the property would all be hers, to add to its' value; if I succeed, she—and you, since the land is in both your names—would be entitled to twenty percent of the profits.”

Joey tried to digest the sheer volume of information Pacey had thrown at her. “What about Leery's? Bodie can't be happy about you leaving.”

Pacey shrugged. “He seemed cool with it. He asked me to promise it wouldn't be a seafood place. I told him I was thinking more bar and grill, and he wished me luck. I'll keep working at Leery's until my place is finished.”

Joey was prepared to agree. She didn't care very much where Pacey worked, as long as he was in Capeside, and a little extra money never came amiss. But Jen spoke up before she could.

“God, Pacey, my mouth is watering just thinking about it. You'll have that mushroom bacon burger on the menu, won't you? I haven't had a single burger since you left, out of respect for its' perfection. Joey, have you tasted one of Pacey's burgers yet?”

Joey flushed. “I, uh, haven't tried anything Pacey's cooked.”

“What! You expect this woman to back your restaurant when she's never even sampled the goods? Unacceptable! Joey, don't give him an answer yet. Pacey, I think you'd better make us all dinner tonight.”

Pacey made a face at Jen. “I think you want a mushroom bacon burger, Lindley.”

“I'm going through _withdrawal_ they're so good.”

“What part of 'day off' don't you understand?”

“I'm a single mother with a two-month old baby. I don't get a day off, why should you?”

Pacey sighed. “Fine. I'll take Anders out for the morning. We'll shop after lunch, then come back here and cook dinner. Will that satisfy you?”

Jen gave a sharp nod of affirmation.

Pacey called out for Anders. “Let's get a move on, kiddo, if we're going to have any time for fun today.”

When Pacey and Anders had left, Joey rounded on Jen. “And what, exactly, was the point of that?”

“The point was I really miss the man's cooking.” Jen smiled slyly. “And if, in the process, my dear friends get some quality time together, that's a nice bonus.”

“You're devious, Jen. Pacey can have the land, I don't care.”

“You will care very much when you've tasted these burgers. You will care so damn much that I will never hear the name Greg again.”

*~*~*~*

Pacey and Anders returned around three in the afternoon, loaded down with grocery bags. Pacey promptly declared the kitchen off-limits to everyone but him and his “special helper.” Anders gained two inches in pride.

With Mrs. Lindley out for a mani/pedi, and the rest of the household's women down for naps, Joey tried to read a book on the couch. Mostly, she eavesdropped on the boys in the kitchen. She was surprised at how patient Pacey was, explaining things to Anders, and his willingness to let the child try things Joey would have told him he was too young for. By the third time she heard a ruckus followed by Anders, “Oops, sorry,” Joey thought this would have to be the best food on the planet if Mrs. Lindley was going to forgive the mess in her kitchen.

Anders surprised her, too. At every moment, Joey expected him to declare he was bored and come in search of toys or TV, but he stayed hard at work with his father even after Jen and Amy rejoined Joey in the living room. His adoration of Pacey was not diminishing with exposure.

Pretty soon, heavenly aromas began to fill the apartment. Jen's comments about her hunger became louder and more pointed. Mrs. Lindley returned, and Mrs. Ryan awoke.

A few minutes after six, Anders rushed in, hair white with flour, clothes covered in an amalgam of colors and substances, to inform them dinner was ready.

Pacey had made more than Jen's beloved mushroom bacon burgers. He's made sampler plates of half a dozen kinds of sliders. Anders' favorite was, predictably, the macaroni and cheese burger, while Joey was embarrassed by the noise she made after her first bite of the Gorgonzola, avocado one. There were sweet potato fries and a pickled veggie assortment for sides.

“And I helped with everything,” Anders announced proudly.

“Well then, I think there might be another chef in the family,” Jen said, grabbing another of her favorites. “Because this is perfect. Thank you both.”

“Don't mention it.” Pacey smiled at her, but shot Joey a questioning look.

Joey's mouth was too full to add her praise.

“So, Pacey, what first got you into cooking?” Mrs. Lindley asked.

“I sort of stumbled into it. My brother got me a job at a restaurant after high school, and the head chef there took me under his wing, taught me the basics of food prep, would have taught me more if he hadn't been so personally repugnant I took the next sailing gig that came my way. But I kept picking stuff up, befriending the galley cooks, helping them where I could. Eventually, I got asked to fill in for a sick cook; it snowballed after that.”

Joey soaked in every word. She wanted to know all about his years away, but had no right to ask. She had never before liked Jen's haughty mother enough.

“Jen said you went to culinary school in Paris? Is that right?”

Pacey laughed. “For a bit. The thing about chefs is, the degree isn't the most important thing. Study in Paris, for however long you can afford it, and you automatically get more respect than if you haven't—as long as your cooking can back up your claims.”

“You always were better at practicals than written exams,” Joey said, then tensed, waiting for Pacey to react.

To her surprise, Pacey smiled and shrugged. He didn't look directly at her, but it was better than she'd hoped. “Pretty much.”

“Daddy, can we have the cake now?”

“That was supposed to be a surprise, buddy.”

“You bring me cake, and I'll be surprised if I can eat it,” Jen said, patting her belly.

“You have to, Auntie! It's chocolate, 'cause that's Mommy's favorite, and I mixed it up myself.”

Joey glowed, not caring which of the pair had decided to make a cake for her. “Well, I'll have a piece, sweetie.”

“Sweeter than sugar is an act of kindness,” Mrs. Ryan said. “I would taste a small portion, as well, please.”

Pacey cleared the table, waving off their offers of help, then called Anders to the kitchen to help him serve. There was fresh coffee, the bitterness of the roast enhancing the sweetness of the rich cake and homemade vanilla bean gelato. 

Joey took a bite, closed her eyes, and moaned. When her lids fluttered open, Pacey's eyes were on her with a heat she still remembered. He pulled his gaze away.

“Okay,” she said after another bite. “You can have your restaurant. I'll talk to Bessie tomorrow.”

Pacey's eyes rushed back to hers, his face blooming with boyish happiness. “Really, Jo?”

“Who am I to deny the world food like this? One condition, though: I eat free.”

Pacey chuckled. “That was Doug's condition, too.”

~*~

**I.**

Joey sat on the plane in the dreaded middle seat. She was on her way to L.A. for the joint purpose of Dawson and Gretchen's wedding and press for her upcoming book. It was the saga of a curious chipmunk who never stopped moving and never stopped asking questions, written, of course, for Anders.

Her son sat by the window, silenced by awe as he looked out at the tops of clouds. On Joey's other side was Pacey, Elisa sleeping against his shoulder. The baby had exhausted herself screaming during the air pressure change of takeoff. Her little face was red and mottled; she whimpered slightly in her sleep.

Pacey caught Joey's gaze and gave her a tired smile. Joey kissed his hand where it rested against their daughter's back.

She closed her eyes and relaxed, secure in the belief that life didn't get better than this.

~*~

“Mrs. Witter, may I have this dance?” 

Joey looked up from her conversation with Jen to smile at her tuxedo-clad husband. “Pacey, you hate to dance.”

“But you don't.” He held out a hand and grinned roguishly at her. “Besides, I've been reliably informed that one of the perks of being best man is you get to take the hottest bridesmaid home. I figure I'd better earn it.”

“You're a pig,” Joey laughed and took his hand. “Where's the baby?”

Pacey gestured at a table across the way while he led her to the floor. “Dougie's got her.”

Joey glanced where Pacey pointed and saw his brother with Elisa in his lap conversing with an Amy-holding Jack. _Interesting_ , Joey thought, then filed it away for later. Pacey pulled her into his arms as a slow dance started. 

During the last, raucous number, Gretchen had twirled Anders around the floor, while Dawson had been similarly adorable with Lily. Now, as if by instinct, the bride and groom drew together for another dance.

Joey sighed happily and buried herself deeper in Pacey's arms. “Today went well, all things considered. You made a nice speech, Pace.”

“Thanks. I learned the hard way to leave the Oompa-Loompa references out.”

She snickered. “If anyone looks like an Oompa-Loompa today, it's me.” She grimaced as she glanced down at her pinkish-orange neo-hippie bridesmaid's dress. “I think this may be the worst one yet.”

“But think how much fun it'll be when I tear it off you.”

“On this one occasion, I won't mind if you follow through on that promise literally.”

Pacey waggled his eyebrows. “I'm gonna hold you to that. And just think, between Jen, Audrey, and Andie, you may have years of atrocious dresses ahead of you.”

“Jen, at least, owes me better. I didn't make her wear anything monstrous to ours.”

“Jen didn't even know she was going to ours.” Pacey's grin faded as he turned her around the floor for several moments in silence. “Do you wish we'd done it differently, Jo?” he finally asked.

She pulled her head up from his shoulder. “What? Our wedding?”

“Yeah. Do you wish you'd had all this?” He gestured at the pristine grandeur around them. “The fancy dress, the flowers, tiered cake, the whole shebang.”

“Do you?”

“Not really. I mean, I got what I wanted out of the day when you let me put that ring on your finger.” He played with her wedding band. “But I wouldn't have minded sharing my love for you with everyone we know.”

“You say that now, but you didn't have to plan this overly-tulled, rose-scented circus with your mother and sisters. Let me tell you, it's a nightmare I'm glad to have been spared. Gretchen is only smiling now because Kerry slipped her a Xanax. And think of the added complications our wedding would have had—your father, the cop, and my father, the criminal; Dawson trying to turn the event into a Spielberg movie; Grams insisting we get married in a church, while Jen refused to set foot in one; spending money we didn't have on a day we would be too stressed to enjoy.” Joey placed her lips to Pacey's ear and whispered, “Our wedding was perfect.”

Pacey kissed her forehead. “That's because the bride was you.”

The idyllic moment was interrupted when Elisa decided she'd had enough of her Uncle Doug and exercised her infant right to scream about it. Halfway to her, Pacey deserted Joey to break up an argument between their son and the flower girl. 

Joey swept her daughter into her arms and cooed at the fussy baby. “It's all right. Mama's here. And thanks for letting us have four whole minutes to ourselves.” 

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Relations between Joey and Pacey changed after she and Anders returned from New York. Nothing drastic, but Pacey no longer seemed set on ignoring her existence.

With Anders finished with preschool and Joey off work for the summer—except pitching in at the B&B—Pacey picked his son up for their afternoons together from Joey's apartment. He always showered right before he came, probably to get rid of the fish smell from work, and he arrived looking so fresh and happy and smelling so good it drove her crazy. Instead of scowls or indifferent stares, Joey received smiles and a kind word or two. But he still wouldn't set foot in her apartment.

Pacey's fishing trip with Anders was scheduled for two weeks after the end of the New York trip. Joey's misgivings mounted with every passing day. She didn't think it was about trusting Pacey or even the lure of the sea; she had never been parted from her son for more than a night before.

Greg, on the other hand, was ecstatic. Anders' trip coincided with his ex's week with the kids, so he thought Joey should spend the entire week at his place. “We'll treat it like a trial run,” he said with a wink.

Anders barely slept the night before his trip, he was so excited. Joey's worry kept her sleepless, as well. Pacey had offered to pick up Andersen, but Joey wanted every last minute she could have with her son. 

They were up and about while it was still dark. Joey triple-checked his backpack to make sure he had everything. She made him eat a little breakfast, then drove down to the docks.

As she drove, Joey was reminded of too many times she had found Pacey at the wharf. From breaking up with him on Dawson's orders, to chasing him down the day they sailed away, from making up after fights, to saying their goodbyes after the Worthington party. She probably should have read the signs that so much of their relationship occurred in a place of farewells.

Pacey was already on board, readying for departure, when they arrived. The sight of him like that—even in a truly atrocious chartreuse Hawaiian print—made Joey feel as though her heart were being tugged straight towards him.

“Ahoy the boat,” she called on impulse.

Pacey looked up, spotted them, and waved. Anders would have taken off running if Joey hadn't had a strong grip on his hand.

“Andersen, we've talked about this. You do not run on docks or boats. One slip and you could be seriously hurt or fall in the water. And wear your life jacket at all times.” Anders was a strong swimmer for his age, but one could never be too careful.

By that time, they had reached Pacey's launch. “Hey, Joey. Hiya, kiddo. You ready for this?”

“Permission to come aboard?” Anders asked, the way his mother had taught him.

Pacey froze for a second, his eyes locked on Joey, mind clearly in a memory. He shook himself out of it and held both hands down to his son. “Permission granted.” 

He helped Anders jump onto the boat, while Joey remained on the dock. She had to respect Pacey's space, as he did hers.

“Bye, sweetie. Have fun.” She leaned over the rail for one last hug and kiss of her son. “Listen to your dad. Wear your life-vest!”

Amid Anders' own goodbyes and Pacey's promises to keep him safe, they raised anchor and set off. Joey stood on the dock, waving and watching, until they were a blur in the radiant orange sunrise.

*~*~*~*

Joey had spent one hundred days living with a man on a very small sailboat. She'd roomed with Jack for two years. She'd lived with her son since he was born. She'd even spent a month in a cabin with Greg and his kids. So one week rooming with her boyfriend should have been no big deal.

She packed a small bag—changes of clothes, toothbrush and other toiletries, a few paperbacks to pass the time—locked up her apartment and headed to Greg's. He greeted her effusively, but couldn't believe she hadn't brought more.

Joey shrugged. “I travel light.”

Greg, like most teachers Joey knew, found a way to make a little extra money during the summers. He crafted crossword puzzles and submitted them to various publications. Joey had been in awe of this skill when first she learned of it. Now, it was just part of what made Greg, Greg.

So in the mornings, Joey went for a run and helped Bessie with cleaning, while Greg worked on his puzzles. In the afternoons, they read—each their own book, in silence—or walked around town or ran errands. Take-out for dinner and a movie or board game completed the night.

“Do you think it's possible to run out of things to say?” Joey asked her sister while they were airing the sheets on Thursday morning.

“For some people? Sure. For you? Not unless your tongue was forcibly removed from your head.”

“Last night at dinner, Greg and I didn't say a word for twenty minutes. I finally broke the silence by expounding on Dawson's old theory about the emotional allegory in _Jurassic Park_.”

Bessie laughed around the pin in her mouth, before attaching it and a sheet to the clothesline. “Wow, you were desperate.”

“I'm serious, Bess. It's driving me mad. I'd rather be here scrubbing toilets than there with him. What's wrong with me?”

Bessie hefted the empty laundry basket on her hip and headed inside. “Nothing's wrong with you. Maybe something is wrong with the relationship. All couples go through ruts; Bodie and I have had our share. But that's when you determine how strong your relationship really is. Do you fight for it, or let it go?”

“Greg and I have never had a problem before. We still don't, really. He's great, perfect, even. I'm just...I don't know.”

“You and Greg have also never had more than, what, six hours straight together without kids. That doesn't really give you the chance to build intimacy.”

“So this is what intimacy looks like? Nothing to say and marathon Monopoly games.” Joey started on the morning's dishes while Bessie made lemonade. 

“You know it's not, Joey. You're better at intimacy than almost anyone I know. Look at you and Dawson. In a lifetime, I don't think you'd run out of things to say to one another.”

“I'm not in love with Dawson.”

“Who said you were? Friendship can be intimate, and romances can be shallow. If Greg's not the one, then fine, there are other men. But I wouldn't jump to any conclusions from one lousy dinner. Anyway, I think this has more to do with Anders being gone. You've never been away from your son so long before, and it's got you flummoxed.”

Joey conceded the point, and the conversation moved on to other topics. But Joey's mind kept making the comparison her sister hadn't. One hundred days on a sailboat, and there was always more to say.

*~*~*~*

On Saturday night, Joey returned to her apartment, telling Greg she wasn't sure what time Pacey was returning Anders the next day. That was true, as far as it went, but she knew it would be late rather than early. She just wanted her own space back.

She spent the day scouring the apartment, as she had the space and time to do so. She even baked cookies to welcome her son home.

The intercom buzzed a little short of seven that night. “Mom, we're home!” was Anders' excited answer to her query.

Joey opened the apartment door as soon as she buzzed them in. To her delight, Anders raced up the stairs and threw himself into her arms. She held him tight, breathing in the scent of him, then laughed.

“You certainly smell like you spent the last seven days on a fishing boat. Let me look at you.” Pacey walked up the stairs at a more sedate pace, while Joey inspected her son for changes. Anders was slightly tanner and looked both bright-eyed with excitement and ready to fall over from exhaustion. “I think you grew an inch this week. I missed you, sweetie.”

“I missed you, too, Mommy. But Dad said it was okay, even big, strong men cry sometimes, and crying can be good, and it wouldn't scare the fishes, and he was right, because I caught SO MANY fish, and most of them we threw back, but some of them we ate, and Dad said I was a lot braver about fish than you were. I didn't even barf when Dad cut the guts out!”

“That's quite an accomplishment. I want to hear all about it, but bath first. You smell like those fish guts all landed on you.”

Anders laughed. “Okay, Mom. Thanks, Dad.” He turned from her to give Pacey a hug. “It was the best trip ever!” He ran into the apartment, leaving Pacey to hand off his Spider-man backpack, slightly more battered than it had been a week ago.

“I'm sure you read between the lines and realize you were very much missed.”

Joey smiled. “So was he. I've never been away from him this long before. It was the slowest week of my life.”

“It was the best week of mine,” Pacey admitted. “You raised a great kid, Jo. Sorry if I didn't tell you before.”

Joey could scarcely absorb the compliment. She was too bothered by Pacey's apology. Where Anders was concerned, all the apologies should come from her. “I'm sorry it took so long for you to meet him.”

“Yeah, well...” Pacey shifted uncomfortably. He was standing a step below the landing, while Joey hovered in the apartment doorway. It made her slightly taller than him for a change. “Doug has pointed out to me the many, many examples of irresponsible behavior I exhibited, up to and including ditching my own graduation, and asked how I could blame you for not trusting me to raise a child. When I think of it that way, I guess I understand. Almost. I'm not sure I can forgive you yet, but I can't hate you, either.”

A knot formed in Joey's throat, cutting off her vocal cords. To see Pacey so abject, thinking, like always, that he deserved all the bad things which happened to him, that he was deficient in some essential way, made her want to blurt out the whole truth. But then, wouldn't he hate her all over again for her selfishness? She told him other truths, instead.

“You didn't deserve it, Pacey. I was wrong—so wrong—not to tell you. I've watched you with Anders. You're a great father, one any child would be lucky to have.”

Pacey's face lit up. His grin made Joey smile automatically. “Thanks, Jo. I—”

“Mom!” called Anders from behind her. “I took a shower. The water turned _brown_! Can I have a cookie now, please?”

“Yes, but just one, and brush your teeth after. I'll be there in a minute.”

Pacey was already half-turned down the steps. “Night, Jo.”

“Do you want to come in and have a cookie?” she asked recklessly.

He considered it for half a second— _progress_ , she thought—then shook his head. “Nah, I've got to get home and shower. I smell worse than the kid. Night.”

“Night, Pacey.” She stood in the doorway and watched him leave.

*~*~*

**III.**

Everything perfect had its price, but Joey hadn't foreseen this one.

At her first prenatal checkup, she had to fill out a mountain of paperwork. She didn't intend to skip the question; it must have gotten lost among the thousand others. Unless Freud was right, after all, and there were no accidents.

Joey's obstetrician, a striking Indian-American woman named Dr. Dhawan who made Joey feel as gawky as a colt, went over every sheet of paper from her side of the desk, while Joey and Pacey waited on the other.

It almost felt like their old trips to the principal's office.

“You missed a question here, Mrs. Witter. Have you ever had an abortion?”

Joey's hand went clammy in Pacey's grip. “Does that matter?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Pacey jerk his head toward her. She kept her gaze locked on Dr. Dhawan.

“If it was late-term, or there were complications, an abortion can sometimes increase the risk factor for your pregnancy.”

“Six years ago,” Joey said in a tight voice. “First trimester. No complications.”

“Then it shouldn't—”

Dr. Dhawan's reassurance fell away as Pacey dropped Joey's hand and walked out of the office without a word. “I'm sorry. Your husband didn't know?”

Joey shook her head, fighting back tears.

“But surely, something so long ago—”

“He was the father then, too.”

“Oh.” Dr. Dhawan, with all her poise, was at a loss for words. “Oh.”

*~*~*

Joey took the subway home after her appointment. She begrudged every stop along the way. If she was too late, Pacey would already have left for work. Assuming he'd come home in the first place. Assuming he hadn't hopped on the first boat leaving town.

She didn't really believe he'd leave, not after all they'd been through, not with this baby on the way. The problem was she didn't know what he would do.

Joey raced up the three flights of stairs to their cubbyhole of an apartment. They were looking for a bigger place for when the baby came. At least, they _had_ been looking for a bigger place.

The only light in the apartment was the dreary, gray morning light from the solitary window. Pacey sat on the couch, glass in hand, bottle of Scotch—mostly full, Joey noted with relief—on the coffee table in front of him.

“So this happened when I was sailing the Caribbean?” Pacey asked, not looking at her, looking at the spot of dreary, gray light on their dreary, beige carpet. “I guess what I mean is did you know before I left or only after?”

Joey shut and locked the apartment door. Now that she knew he was here, all haste had left her. She sat on the opposite end of the couch, toed off her shoes and curled into a ball. She could use a glass of Scotch herself, but couldn't have one. The baby.

“It wasn't then,” she said finally. “It was while you were out of town, camping with Doug.”

“Camping with...” The confusion on Pacey's face gave way to remembrance. “We weren't even broken up then.”

“No.”

“So why didn't you tell me?”

“I was afraid. Gretchen had been talking about all the pressure you were under—”

“Gretchen knew?”

“Yes, and hated me for years for making her swear not to tell you.” Joey rushed to vindicate his sister. Let his hate stay focused on her, where it belonged.

“Ah. I always thought that had something to do with Dawson. Did he know, by the way?” From Pacey's tone of voice, they might have been discussing the weather; only his grim expression and the way he wouldn't look at her hinted at the knife edge he stood upon. 

“No. Not Dawson, not Jen, not Jack. Only your sister and mine.”

“And you. _You_ knew, Joey. You've known all along.”

“What do you want me to say, Pacey? I was eighteen years old and scared out of my mind. You were out of town, unreachable, and we were falling apart. I made the right decision to have the abortion, and the wrong one not to tell you about it.”

“And at no point in the last six years did you think to right that wrong?”

“How would telling you later have fixed it? We were apart for nine months. By the time we got back together, it seemed stupid to rehash the past yet again. And the farther away it all got, the less important it seemed.”

“You didn't trust me. That's what it amounts to. You didn't trust me to be there for you.”

“That's not true. I didn't want to hurt you, and I didn't want you to blame yourself. Which is what you _do_ , Pace. Even now, when any other man would be sitting there hating me, you're sitting there hating yourself, for God only knows what reason this time, except your belief that if you'd been better in some unspecified way, I would have told you.”

That finally brought Pacey's gaze up to her. He tried to glare, but the effect was ruined by the unshed tears glimmering in his ocean blue eyes.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart. I wish I had a better excuse; I don't. I wish I knew what to say; I don't. But I wouldn't wish one single moment of the last six years unlived. I'm sorry for the baby that was never born, but it led the way to this.” She rested her hand low on her belly. “The baby we're ready for.”

Pacey took a deep, shuddering breath and downed the rest of his glass. “I'm pissed as hell, Jo.”

“I know.”

“You've had six years to deal with this. I've had two hours.”

“I know.”

Pacey groaned and leaned his head against the back of the couch. “I'm supposed to head to work now.”

“I'll call in sick for you.” Joey went to grab her cell phone from her purse. 

“When I figure out what I want to say to you, there's probably going to be some screaming involved.” 

Her mouth slipped into a half-smile. “Thanks for the warning. I'll invest in earplugs.”

“Hey, Jo?”

Joey dialed Pacey's restaurant and put the phone to her ear. “Hmm?”

“Whatever happened then, whatever happens now, I love you.”

“I know that, too.”


	10. Chapter 10

**II.**

Once again, Joey was sitting in a bathroom, waiting for lines to appear on a stick. But this time, she was not alone. And this time, she was hoping for two lines. 

Pacey sat beside her on the edge of the tub, holding her hand and checking his watch every ten seconds. When the alarm finally buzzed, they both jumped.

“You check,” Joey said. “I'm too nervous.”

“You're the one who peed on it,” Pacey griped, but obediently stood and glanced at the small, white test resting on the sink. “There's a couple of lines on it. Does it matter what color they are?”

Joey's hand rushed to her belly. “Two? Two lines, you're sure?” Without waiting for his answer, she jumped up to confirm for herself. 

“So what's it mean?”

She tried to think of a way to tell him that didn't reek of cliché, then gave up. “We'll need to find a new storage space. My old room's going to have a new occupant soon.”

Joey could never decide which pleased her more, the slow grin which spread across Pacey's face or the tears which swirled in his eyes. Better than both was the shower of kisses he rained upon her.

She decided she didn't hate those sticks as much as she thought she did.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

The trip to Maine was a disaster from the word _go_. After the painful week cohabitating, Joey's enthusiasm for it had dimmed, and Anders was angry when he discovered Pacey wouldn't come visit, as he had in the city.

The kids squabbled all the way there. Anders talked too much about Pacey, offending Bella who assured him _her_ dad was the best in the world. Anders fought back, and the two were in open war. Greg's attempt at peacekeeping led Anders to the rejoinder every step or prospective stepparent dreaded: “You're not my daddy!”

Brandon got carsick.

The situation only deteriorated once they arrived. The cabin was having plumbing problems, which meant lake baths and outdoor toilets. The weather was unbearably hot and muggy. Anders got stung by a bee—luckily, he wasn't allergic—and they all were eaten alive by mosquitoes. 

Greg tried to hold things together, organizing group hikes and canoe rides. Joey knew she should follow his example and put a positive spin on things, but the lack of indoor plumbing had soured her spirits, alongside an unnamed longing she refused to recognize as being identical to Anders'.

The last straw came early in the second week when the kids stumbled into a field of poison ivy. Two hours, a scrub in the lake, and a massive dose of Calamine lotion later, Anders was still sobbing, “I want...to go...home!”

“Me too, baby,” Joey whispered.

She apologized to Greg, but asked him to give her and Anders a ride to the nearest train station. Joey and Greg had their first real fight that day, as he accused her of spoiling her son, of catering too much to his whims, and she accused him of refusing to acknowledge that this whole vacation sucked ass. It devolved from there. But Joey got her ride—a silent one—to the station.

Joey bought herself and Anders tickets to Boston, but there wasn't another train to Capeside that day. It felt more like kismet than _deja vu_ when Joey used her cell to call Pacey as they left the wilds of Maine behind.

“Jo, is Anders okay? Everything all right?” Pacey sounded almost frantic. 

_Of course he does_ , she thought. _I haven't called him once since he's been back._

“It's okay, Pace. We're both mostly intact, just bee-stung and mosquito-bitten, and Anders has a stunner of a rash from some exploring he did. So we're coming home early. But I could only get a train to Boston and—I know it's a horrible imposition, but Bessie and Bodie wake up so—”

“When and where, Joey?”

She gave him the details and thanked him.

There was a moment's quiet on the line, then, “I'm glad you called me,” and Pacey hung up.

*~*~*~*

Pacey was there to greet them as they disembarked. Anders ran to his father, and Pacey held him tight, disregarding Joey's warning about possible contamination from the poison ivy. He slung the boy around and gave him a piggyback ride to the car. He grabbed Joey's bag without a word; she stumbled along behind with only Anders' backpack.

Pacey listened to Anders' list of woes with all appropriate sympathy, then got him settled in the backseat, while Joey slid into the front passenger seat. Pacey's favorite classic rock station blared from the radio when he turned on the car, but he turned down the volume as he shifted into drive.

“Thank you again for doing this, Pacey. I know you have to work tomorrow, too.”

“Not as early as your family. And I'm happy to help, honestly. It gave me a break from unpacking.”

“Unpacking?”

“Finally got a place of my own. A little shack on the beach, not far from Gretchen's old one. Worse shape than hers, but the landlord agreed to knock off half the rent in exchange for repairs. And it's two bedrooms, so Anders can have a place of his own.”

“My room's at Mommy's house.”

“I know, buddy, but I thought it would be nice if you had one with me, too. Someplace for your games and toys, and some clothes, if your mom is okay letting you spend the night sometimes.”

“Like with Alex?” Anders perked up more than he had in a week. “Can I, Mom, can I?”

“Sure, sweetie. Sometimes.”

“Tonight?”

“Not tonight. I made you an appointment at the doctor's tomorrow, remember, to check out your rash. And your dad has to work.”

“Tomorrow?”

Joey looked at Pacey to see what he thought, he turned toward her at the same time, but both were obscured in the night.

“I'd love it, if it's okay with your mom.”

“All right, tomorrow night.”

Anders squealed with joy. Joey told him not to yell in the car. Pacey turned up the radio again. Anders was asleep within twenty minutes. When Pacey was sure the boy was deep in dreamland, he turned off the music.

“You can tell me if it's none of my business, but is everything all right, Jo?”

Joey remembered the last time he'd picked her up at a station in the middle of the night; she assumed he did, too, thus, the question. “Fine. Anders was miserable, so we came home.”

“And what's-his-name, the boyfriend?”

“ _Greg_ is big on finishing what he starts, so he and his kids are toughing out the lack of air conditioning and running water.”

Pacey chuckled. “Sounds like Anders wasn't the only one who was miserable.”

Joey looked out the window. “No, he wasn't.”

*~*~*~*

“I'll grab the kid, if you take the bags.”

Anders hadn't stirred when Pacey pulled up in front of Joey's apartment building. Joey had no desire to lug a sleep-heavy five-year-old up a flight of stairs, or to wake him and listen to him whine his way to bed.

“Deal.” She grabbed the luggage from the backseat then unlocked the outer door and waited for Pacey to transfer a disoriented Anders from the car to his arms.

 _This is what dads are for_ , Joey thought with a pang, as she watched Pacey carry their son as though he weighed nothing. She held the outer door for him, then hurried up the stairs to unlock the front door and turn on the lights.

Pacey's foot hovered for a moment in the doorway. Deliberately, Joey walked on to Anders' room, without looking back to see if he followed.

“In here,” she said and flipped the light. She dropped both bags by Anders' door, then turned back his blankets.

Pacey laid the child down on his bed and stepped back while Joey took off Anders' shoes and socks and tucked him in. When she stood and looked around, Pacey was staring at the wall over Anders' headboard. It was plastered with the postcards Pacey had sent her.

“He was obsessed with those for quite a while until you came back.”

“I didn't imagine you'd kept them.” Pacey's voice was hoarse.

“Yeah, well, I knew he'd want them someday.” Joey knew she'd said the wrong thing immediately. She could have kicked herself.

Pacey turned away from the postcards and faced her with a forced smile. “Thanks for that, anyway. Night, Joey.” He headed out of the room as though pursued by the zombie apocalypse. 

“Pacey, wait.” She hurried after him. “You went out of your way for us tonight. Won't you stay and have a drink with me?”

He stopped, turned, at least faked glancing at his watch. “Not a good idea. Work in the morning, and I need to drive home. Thanks for the offer, though.”

Joey watched him go, trying to discern the magic words which would make him stay.

At the doorway, Pacey paused again, braced both hands against the doorway as if considering something, then turned back around. “I meant that thanks before, Joey, however it sounded. You made him love me before he ever met me. I don't know how or why you did that, but I know most women wouldn't have. So thank you.” 

He was gone before the “You're welcome,” made it to her lips.

~*~

**I.**

Pacey adjusted their umbrella to give Elisa better shade as she napped on the towel between her parents. Joey kept her eyes glued to Anders and Alex as they squealed and played in the outgoing tide.

“It was a great idea, Jo, this week in Capeside. I almost don't want to go back.”

“So let's not.” Joey leaned back on her elbows, relaxing a bit as the boys moved inland to build a sandcastle.

“Very funny, Potter. There is this little thing called work.” Joey could see the black cloud settling over Pacey as he said the word.

“Quit,” Joey finally voiced the thought she had been wanting to for months. “You've been miserable there ever since the new management came in. Quit, Pace.”

Pacey gaped at her. “You're serious?”

She nodded, turning on her side to face him. Pacey mirrored her position with their sleeping daughter separating them. “I am. I don't like it when you're unhappy, sweetheart. Not least because you're horrible to be around.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Oh, come on. You know you've been snappish with me and the kids. You must be tired of apologizing for it by now.”

“I am, but your grand solution is, what, for us all to become beach bums and live on the fish we catch? You hate fish.”

Joey rolled her eyes. “Give me some credit. Bessie and I were walking in town the other day, and I noticed no one's ever built where the Ice House used to be. We've talked about you opening your own place someday. Maybe now is the time.”

Pacey sucked in a breath, but his eyes lit up. “The Ice House? It's not a bad idea. But I couldn't ask you to move back to Capeside when you've worked so hard to get out—”

“We've worked hard,” Joey corrected. “And I don't know, maybe having kids has changed my perspective a bit. It was a nice place to grow up, a safe place, if you discount the occasional hurricane or drug-fueled arson. Safer than Boston, anyway. A good school district, and lots of family and friends around. Anders loves it here, Elisa will, too, and I can do my work from anywhere.”

“Opening a restaurant is risky, Jo, you know that. It might be years before we turn a profit, if we ever do.”

“Not to brag or anything, but, as of our last tax return, I'm making more than you. We can live on that. I don't mind. It's worth it if this will make you happy.” Joey laid her hand on Elisa's tiny torso and felt its rhythmic rise and fall.

Pacey covered her hand with his. “As long as it doesn't make you unhappy.”

Joey smiled. “I'm the one who suggested it, doofus.”

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

After Anders got the all clear from his doctor, Joey drove by Bessie's and picked up a few small packing boxes from the kitchen surplus.

“What are they for, Mom?” Anders asked, when she stuffed them beside him in the backseat.

“For your stuff. We're gonna pack some things for you to take to Daddy's.”

Anders was excited about the idea, until he realized that instead of playing with his toys, he was going to spend the morning dividing them into a “Dad's house” box and a “Mom's house” pile. While her son dillied and dallied his way through the task, Joey sorted his dresser, boxing up some clothes for Pacey's and others Anders had outgrown for Goodwill.

She called Pacey at work to let him know he didn't need to pick up Anders; she'd drop him off at the new house.

“Checking it's safe for human habitation?”

“Well, the fact that you live there certainly doesn't prove it.” Joey was surprised at how easily the old banter flew from her lips. She worried Pacey would take it the wrong way, but his deep chuckle rasped against her ear. She grinned with no one to see.

“And here I thought that famous Potter mouth had run out of nasty things to say, used all up and become a sarcasm burnout.”

“I had been running low on material for a while, but then you stumbled back into my life.”

“Ouch! She wounds, she wounds.” There was a muffled voice on the other end of the line, followed by Pacey's equally incomprehensible reply. Then he told her, “Hey, Jo, they need me here. I gotta cut this short.” He gave her his new address and said they could come by anytime after three-thirty.

Joey hung up, flushed and happy and adrenaline-charged. An absurd overreaction to a moment's interaction, but the buoyancy stayed with her through the rest of the packing, all of Anders' whining, and the drive to Pacey's in the afternoon.

His new beach house didn't differ much from the old one, except in being more of a dump, if the missing shingles and hole in the porch were any indication. Joey grabbed two boxes and made Anders carry the other as they walked up to the door. Anders rang the doorbell. When Pacey didn't appear, Joey suggested it was broken and had her son knock.

Through the glass door, she saw Pacey exit one of the back rooms and hurry toward them. “Heya, squirt, whatcha got there, house-warming present?”

“Something like that,” Joey said, as Pacey relieved her of one of the boxes. His hand brushed her arm as he did, and her good mood soared a little higher. “We brought some of Anders' stuff, so he can do some unpacking of his own.”

“That's awesome of you, Jo. Come on in. I'll give you the tour.” He stepped back and ushered them inside. “Living room, dining room, kitchen.” Pacey gestured around the functional, slightly old-fashioned, multi-purpose area. “Bathroom.” He stuck his thumb in the door on the right.

The mom in Joey had to make certain it was sanitary. It was. The room smelled strongly of bleach, but Pacey had done a thorough job, not a trace of mold or mildew to be seen, just a few broken tiles and a jiggly toilet handle.

“My room.” Pacey waved toward a door on the left. Joey wasn't brave enough to peek inside. “And Anders' room.” He entered the last door, the one he'd emerged from at their knock. They followed him in.

“Cool, a Batman bed,” Anders said, scrambling up the new furniture to break it in by jumping on it. Pacey had also gotten his son a new dresser and a toy box that looked like a sea chest.

“It looks great, Pace,” Joey told him.

Pacey smiled, irrationally pleased at any compliment from her. “There's still a lot to do, but I wanted Anders' space to feel livable before he got here.”

Anders took an especially forceful jump off the bed and into his father's arms. Pacey barely managed to keep him from falling. “Dad, can we play on the beach? Mom didn't let me outside all day!”

“Sure, kiddo.” While Anders whooped and headed for the door, Pacey looked at Joey. “Mind sticking around a few minutes? There's something I'd like to discuss with you.”

“Sorry, I'm all out of land to give,” Joey teased, but she headed out to the beach with him.

Pacey and Joey stood next to each other, a foot apart and watched their son explore the tide pools. Joey had the ridiculous urge to grab Pacey's hand and pull his arm around her shoulders. She resisted.

“You must think I'm a jerk and an idiot for not realizing this earlier, but I want to contribute.”

“Contribute?”

“Financially. You know, child support.”

“You already contribute. I haven't bought him a toy in months, since you keep spoiling him. And you wouldn't believe the difference it makes, not having to feed him 24/7.”

“But that's fun stuff. I want to be a real dad to him, Joey, and that includes financial support. If we went to court, they would make me pay. I'm just cutting out the middle-man.”

Joey frowned. “I can tell this is important to you, Pacey, but my financial independence has been a point of pride for me. My expenses have gone down, not up, since you arrived. It's stupid to make you pay, especially when you're trying to get a restaurant off the ground.”

Pacey looked dissatisfied with her answer, but Anders called him away to see something and he went. Joey watched father and son together and tried to think of a way to reconcile Pacey's pride with her own.

“Hey, Pace!” she called when the idea struck.

He jogged back to her. “Yeah, Jo?”

“If it's that important to you, come school shopping with us tomorrow. I promise we'll split the expenses right down the middle.”

Pacey beamed. “Yeah?”

Joey nodded grimly. “Don't smile. You haven't experienced the joys of K-mart with a small boy before.”

*~*~*~*

“All right, here are the ground rules,” Joey announced, turning to face Anders in the backseat without making a move to leave the car. “No touching anything unless I say so. No hiding anything in the cart. Stay with me or your father at all times, and no begging or whining for anything. You got that, mister?”

Behind the wheel, Pacey smothered a laugh at her severity.

“Yes, Mom,” sighed the long-suffering Anders, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“If you follow all those rules, we'll get ice cream after.”

“Yay!” Anders' scream was deafening in the confined space.

“I said _if_ ,” Joey reminded him, finally opening her door.

“Bribery, Potter?” Pacey asked, as he took Anders' left hand, Joey took his right, and they swung him back and forth between them while they crossed the parking lot.

“Incentive is a wonderful thing.”

Pacey pulled a cart from the line as they entered. He let Anders hop on the end and ride it. As they careened through the aisles, Joey wondered if she had brought along a second boy in need of supervision. 

They headed to school supplies first. Joey had brought Anders' kindergarten list with her. She let him pick when there were multiple choices, including a new backpack—this year's superhero of choice was the Hulk—and managed to make it out of the aisle with only one unnecessary sticker book.

“Where to next?” Pacey asked.

“Clothes. He doesn't need much, new shoes, socks, underwear. A couple pairs of pants without grass stains or holes. Most of his things are hand-me-down from Alex.”

“Jo, I could—”

“No, Pacey. I want Anders to appreciate new things when he gets them, not feel entitled to them. Among my long list of childhood woes, having to wear my sister's castoffs doesn't rank.”

“As I recall, you had to give that up when you grew legs and Bessie grew breasts.”

Joey shoved Pacey for that remark, which caused the cart to swerve and Anders to squeal, “Again! Again!”

While Anders tried on shoes, they talked out their schedule for the school year. The ground at the new Ice House had been broken while Joey and Anders were in Maine. Pacey was going to divide his days between Leery's and the construction site, but he didn't want to forfeit his time with Anders.

In the end, they decided Anders would spend Mondays and Wednesdays with his dad, Tuesdays and Thursdays with his mom, and they would alternate Fridays. On weekends, he would have breakfast with Pacey before work, then spend the rest of the day with Joey. 

The schedule appeared practical. Joey could find only one drawback to it. With almost all the trade-offs occurring before and after school, she would no longer see Pacey every day. It wasn't an objection she could voice.

*~*~*~*

Anders was about as well-behaved on their shopping trip as he'd ever been, his father's antics aside. So Joey kept her promise and treated them all to ice cream. Anders and Joey ordered their traditional chocolate in waffle cones, while Pacey got pecan praline.

“It makes me miss the real stuff,” Pacey said, after a long lick Joey was ashamed to admit she watched avidly. “I can make it, but mine isn't as good as any street vendor in New Orleans.”

“That's right. Bodie said you worked in New Orleans. What were you doing there?”

“After Paris, everything that happened...my marriage falling apart...the States looked a lot more appealing. I flew back to visit Gretch, interviewed for The Delta on a whim, and got the job.”

“Doug told me Gretchen was in Memphis.”

Pacey shrugged. “She was for a while. You know Gretch, always chasing the illusion of happiness.”

“Who's Gretchen?” asked a sticky-faced Anders.

“My sister. Your aunt. I'm trying to talk her into coming home for Thanksgiving or Christmas, so she can meet you. It would be nice for you to know there's at least one sane person in my family.”

“What about Doug?” teased Joey.

“Jury's still out, unlike Doug, who's still mostly in.” Pacey's barb was perfunctory. He was staring at her mouth in a way that made Joey self-conscious.

“What? Did it drip?” Joey swiped a napkin across her mouth and chin.

Pacey licked his thumb, then rubbed it against the left corner of her bottom lip. “Missed a spot.”

Joey felt her face burning, a sensation which traveled the rest of her body when Pacey sucked the chocolate off his thumb.

“Did I miss a spot, Dad?”

Joey yanked her eyes away and laughed at her chocolate-bearded son.

*~*~*~*

Greg called that night. He and his kids were home. The poison ivy infection had spread, with no laundry and no running water, and they were covered in rashes. Greg apologized profusely for the fight, said Joey had been right to leave, and hoped leaving the cabin hadn't meant leaving him.

Joey apologized, as well, assured him they were as good as ever. She wondered how to begin to tell him that wasn't necessarily enough for her anymore. She put it off for later, once his rash had healed.

*~*~*~*

The new school year started. Pacey drove them both for Anders' first day of kindergarten. Anders was unfazed by it, after three years of preschool. Joey was a ridiculous mess, not helped by the fact that she had to rush off to her own class. Pacey gave her a sympathetic shoulder squeeze before she left, and the touch lingered for hours.

Greg walked her home after school—it was Pacey's day with Anders—as kind and devoted as ever. But there wasn't a single spark when he kissed her goodbye.

Joey knew she needed to end things, but she couldn't find the words. _It's not you, it's me_ , though true, was too cliché to be credited. If she told him they didn't have passion, Greg would calmly inquire why it took her two years to discover this and make her discuss the whole situation until Joey didn't know what she felt anymore. In certain ways, Greg was entirely too much like Dawson.

The most honest answer, _I am so head over heels in love with Anders' father there isn't room for anyone else_ , was too hurtful, and she wasn't sure Greg would believe it. Which would mean more talking. She wished she were one of those horrible people who broke up over email.

She put it off again.

~*~*~

**II.**

They—mostly Pacey, who freaked if Joey was on her feet too long—painted the spare bedroom a gender-neutral pale yellow and alternated laughing and screaming while they put together the crib. They fought over names, and Joey complained about her bladder and the daily barf sessions.

She had never been happier.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

A few weeks into the fall term, Joey checked her voicemail during first recess. She had two messages. The first was from the school nurse's office, informing her that Anders had thrown up in class and needed to be taken home. The second was from Pacey, telling her the nurse had called—Joey had added Pacey along with Bessie to the emergency contact list—and he was on the way to pick him up. Relief that Anders would be cared for merged with regret that she couldn't be there for him.

During lunch break, Joey called Pacey from the teachers' lounge. He answered on the third ring.

“Jo?” Pacey sounded frazzled. She could hear Anders moaning in the background.

“Hey, Pacey. I got your message. How is he?”

“Not good. Everything's coming out one end or the other, he has a fever, and he says everything hurts. Should I take him to the doctor?”

Joey kept her voice calm as she talked him through his first childhood illness. “No, it's probably just a stomach bug. If it lasts more than forty-eight hours, we'll take him in. For now, give him a cool bath, with oatmeal, if you have any.”

“Oatmeal?”

“Trust me. Try to get him to take in fluids throughout the day. Water or Pedialyte would be best, but juice or ginger ale if that's all you can convince him to drink. Saltine crackers to snack on, and as much rest as he can manage. I'll be there as soon as school's over.”

“Thanks, Jo. See you on the other side.” Pacey sounded like he was marching into war.

*~*~*~*

Joey surveyed Pacey's house as she approached the door. He had already made significant improvements. The shingles and the porch had been repaired, and the outside had been painted a creamy white, with dark green trim.

The doorbell still didn't work, but Pacey was slumped in a living room chair and headed towards her before she could knock. He was noticeably bedraggled, still in his work clothes, hair mussed, eyes haunted.

“You look like you've had a day,” Joey said, as he stepped back to let her in.

“He's finally sleeping.” Pacey beckoned her back to Anders' room, where the little boy lay curled up, arms holding his belly even in sleep. “I don't know how you manage it, Jo,” Pacey whispered, as they watched him from the doorway.

“Welcome to parenthood. I remember the first time he got the stomach flu. He was only two.” Joey stared up at Pacey's profile and made herself be brave. “It was the day I was supposed to fly to Paris to meet you.”

Pacey drew in a sharp breath and pivoted to face her.

“Bessie said I should go, that he would be fine. But he looked so miserable, and I was so scared. I couldn't go. And, of course, Bessie was right. Two days later, he was running around like nothing ever happened.”

“But you were planning to come? You were going to...” Pacey swallowed hard and turned back to Anders. “I wish I'd known.”

“I thought about having Jen contact you, if she could. But there was too much to explain. I could tell you about Anders with two weeks on a boat, but not in a two minute apology.”

“But you were going to come,” Pacey said, like he couldn't believe it.

“I told you I would,” Joey said simply.

When he turned to her, Pacey's eyes were pools of blue she could drown herself in. “Jo.” His hands reached out, slowly, so tentatively, and stroked down her cheekbones to cup her jaw. Her pulse hammered in her brain, her throat, her chest. Pacey took a step towards her, bent his head, and whispered again, “Jo.”

“Yes,” she breathed back into him as her eyes fluttered closed, anticipating the first brush of lips in far too many years.

“Mommy!” Anders' pained cry drew Pacey bolt upright, and Joey ran to the bed.

“Here, baby. I'm here.” She pushed the hair from his sweaty brow and looked up at Pacey apologetically. “I really should get him home before the next round starts.”

Pacey swiped a hand over his face, then nodded. “I'll carry him to the car for you.”

Joey hoped he would make a second attempt before she left, but Pacey stayed on the other side of her car, helping Anders in, then waving goodbye. She had no choice but to get in the car herself and drive away.

Her insides roiled the rest of the day, while she cared for Anders. Joey thought it was all a reaction to that near-miss kiss. It wasn't until after midnight, when she puked her guts into the toilet bowl, that she realized she had stomach flu, too.

*~*~*~*

Joey's first call in the morning was to work, to let them know she and Anders would both be absent. Her second was to Pacey.

“Hey, Pace.” She tried to sound cheerful and unconcerned, quite a feat when she was sure she was going to die. “Hope I didn't wake you. Just wanted to let you know you don't have to pick Anders up after school today. I'm keeping him home with me.”

“Is he still sick?”

“He seemed better last night, but an extra day off is not a bad thing.”

“I can keep him, Jo. A day off is easier for me to arrange than you.”

“Thanks, but I got this. I've already taken the day.” She fought a rising wave of panic, along with a rising need to heave.

There was a pause on the other end. “Jo, are you sick, too?”

“Maybe a bit. It's no big deal. I'll be—”

“Be there in twenty.”

“—fine,” Joey finished to the dial tone.

She spent the twenty minute interval dry heaving, trying to make herself not look like death warmed over, then giving it up as a hopeless case. Anders awoke starving, which she took as a good sign, but she limited him to peanut butter toast and a banana.

The doorbell rang while he was still eating. Joey was half-tempted to ignore it until Pacey went away. But Anders, mouth full, was staring at her, so she made herself get up and buzz Pacey in.

“Mom, you forgot to ask who it was,” Anders chided. But he jumped out of his seat when Joey opened the door to his father. “Are you taking me to school today, Dad?”

Joey turned and left. She didn't have the energy to clean the kitchen or to talk to Pacey. She went back to bed. Their conversation drifted back to her.

“Not today, kiddo. You and your mom are sick. I'm just here to help.”

“At Mom's house? Awesome! I can show you all my toys.” Andersen kept talking, but it blurred together in Joey's fevered brain until she fell asleep.

She had scattered memories that day of Pacey's cool hands helping her sit up to drink, of him holding back her hair as everything she managed to swallow came right back up, of Anders' distant, excited shouts and nearby, quiet whispers. At one point, Pacey ran her a bath and carried her into the bathroom. Joey thought he left her to undress and bathe alone, but she wished she were more confident on that point.

Her fever broke sometime in the night. Joey awoke around three in the morning, parched and brittle, but herself again. She tiptoed to the kitchen for a glass of water and nearly broke her neck tripping over one of Anders' Legos. The entire living room was a disaster area, toys scattered everywhere, furniture disarranged, and, right in the middle, the biggest blanket fort she'd ever seen. 

Steady breathing prompted Joey to peek inside, where she found Pacey flat on his back, sound asleep, with Anders laying perpendicular to him, dark head on his father's chest and dreaming away. A _Goosebumps_ novel rested on the floor near Pacey's hand.

Joey got her water, left the mess, and went back to bed.

*~*~*~*

She woke again to the smells of fresh coffee and sizzling bacon. Her stomach, surprisingly, didn't revolt. Her alarm clock read 6:38 AM, enough time to get ready for work if she hurried.

Joey raced through her shower and dressing, opting to throw her hair up in a bun rather than drying it. Anders' voice greeted her as she stepped from the bathroom. He was initiating Pacey into the mind-splitting world of _Yu-gi-oh_. 

Joey emerged to find no trace of the chaos in the night. Toys were put away, dishes were washed, fort had vanished, even the furniture was all back where it belonged. Anders was dressed—if not entirely matching—and sitting down to breakfast. A full morning spread filled Joey's kitchen table, not something she'd seen there, well, ever.

Pacey jumped to his feet at her approach. “Morning, Jo.” He pulled out a chair before an empty plate and a deliciously full mug of coffee. “How are you feeling? I wasn't sure what you'd be up to this morning, but Anders was ravenous, so I made the lot.”

“Thank you, Pacey. This is, this is so much. Everything you've done...I can't...” Tears swam in her eyes.

“Careful, Potter. You're getting sentimental. I've heard it's a side effect of hunger. Take a seat. You have a few minutes yet.”

Mutely, Joey obeyed. She grabbed a few pieces of toast and bacon to nibble on while she drank her coffee. Pacey sent Anders to wash his hands and brush his teeth, while he cleared away and kept up a rambling, half-joking dialogue.

“I had to improvise a little with the blueberry pancakes. Would it kill you to stock up on fresh produce? You don't want the kid to get scurvy. No wonder you both got sick, and I didn't. A compromised immune system is no laughing matter.”

Joey caught Pacey's hand in hers when he passed by her chair. The immediate zing racing through her skin had nothing to do with illness. “Seriously, Pacey, thank you.”

His smile spread slowly. “Anytime, Jo. Anytime.” He kissed the line where her forehead met her hair.

*~*~*

**III.**

There was screaming. On both their parts. And crying, mostly on hers. There were the nights she banished him to the couch and the ones he exiled himself there. There were the times he stormed out, and the nightmarish night when he didn't come back—Joey bailed him out of the drunk tank the next morning and didn't speak to him for a week.

Six years they'd built together. One lie in the foundation sent their relationship tottering. But in the end, it was still standing.

Maybe the baby helped. Even at their worst, Pacey didn't miss one of Joey's doctor's appointments, one landmark of her pregnancy, one shopping trip for another baby necessity.

But Joey believed it was more than that. At the height of the storm, she clung to the knowledge—and it was knowledge more than feeling then—that Pacey loved her, and she loved him. She trusted him to do the same.

One night, Pacey came to bed, placed his hand over the small bulge where their baby rested, and told her, “I forgive you.” He never mentioned the past again.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey had a date with Greg scheduled for the next Saturday. He announced he had reservations at Leery's. She took it as a sign. She couldn't sit in that restaurant, eating Pacey's food, knowing Pacey was on the other side of the swinging door, and pretend to be in love with Greg. She would end it.

A vow easier made than kept. First, there was the small talk while they waited for their food. The kids, the work week. Greg asked about her illness. Joey told him she was better, without saying a word about Pacey's visit.

As if reading her mind, Greg observed, “Your ex has transformed this place. It will be interesting to see what he does with a restaurant of his own.”

“Pacey's very talented,” Joey agreed carefully.

“I was a bit surprised at you and your sister granting him use of your land, but your families have known each other for a long time.”

 _Yeah, we go way back. His father arrested mine. Twice_ , Joey wanted to say, but didn't. She said nothing at all.

“In some ways, I still feel like such an outsider in this town.” He took Joey's hand and squeezed it. “And in others, it feels like my only home.”

Joey slowly extricated her hand during the distraction of their food arriving. Never a huge fan of fish, she had ordered the lobster ravioli. When Francie placed it before her, the waitress was grinning ear to ear. In the center of the plate stood a miniature Roman column, and on top of that column was a black box with a small, shiny ring inside. By the time Joey registered what was happening, it was too late to prevent it.

Greg knelt beside her on one knee, grabbing her cold, limp hand again. “Josephine Potter, you are one of the most extraordinary people I've ever met. I love you. I love your son, as I trust you love my children. I want us to be a family. Will you marry me?”

Joey was too aware of the watching eyes. Francie lingered; the surrounding diners glanced over; a couple of the wait staff peeked out the kitchen door. Pacey was nowhere to be seen.

Joey didn't look at Greg; she looked at the ring, and the column, and the luscious-smelling food she'd never taste. “How did you arrange this?”

Clearly not the answer Greg expected. Not the answer any man would expect. He blinked. “What?”

“This.” She pushed her plate farther away from her. “The ring. How'd you arrange the ring? Was it with Francie, who?”

Greg abandoned the kneeling position which had suited him so poorly and slid back into his seat. “Josephine, why does that matter? I asked you to marry me. That's the relevant question.”

“ _No_ , that's the relevant answer. I thank you, I'm sorry, but no. Who helped you?”

Greg's eyes widened as the truth rushed in on him. For a man whose heart had just been crushed, he maintained a remarkably stoic demeanor. “Pacey, of course. However, had I realized the true state of affairs, I would have selected a more politic ally. Tell me, Josephine, did you ever love me?”

Joey's shoulders folded together as she saw through her anger to the good man she'd hurt. “I wanted to. I tried to. I told myself I did.” 

“And then he came back,” Greg finished bitterly.

Joey nodded, glad Francie and the others had all slipped away once it became clear this wasn't going to be a Kodak moment. “I'm sorry,” she said again.

Greg played with his fork without answering, without touching his salmon.

“We should leave.”

“No, I should leave. You should go to the kitchen and settle things with Anders' father.” Greg's gray eyes had never been so bleak. “A boy should have a father.” He rose, dropped some money for the bill, but was practical enough to take the ring with him.

Joey sat for a long time, staring at the empty pedestal and the ravioli as it grew colder. She considered following Greg's advice and marching back to confront Pacey, but one embarrassing public scene a night was her current limit. She could pick up Anders from Bessie's, but he liked spending the night with his cousin and was probably asleep anyway. She should go home, but it felt too great an effort to make when she was only going to curl up and cry at the other end.

So she sat, while diners came and went, while Francie didn't pester her or hint that she should leave, while her dinner grew colder.

“Here.” Pacey set down a white container in front of her. “Crab cakes. A takeout order no one picked up. You need to eat, and I promise there's no ring in it.” He slid into Greg's vacant seat.

Joey glared at him. “You helped him plan it, you jackass.”

Pacey held up his hands in protest. “Whoa. I did nothing of the sort. Guy comes to me today, says he's proposing to you tonight and would I make sure the ring is on the plate. He's not a friend; he's a customer. What was I supposed to do, challenge him to pistols at dawn?”

“Nothing that dramatic.” Despite herself, Joey realized she was hungry and opened the takeout. “Another sailboat race, maybe?”

Pacey grinned. “Don't have a boat.”

“What happened to it? The one you had when you sent me the ticket, I mean.”

“Sold it, after you didn't show up.”

Joey frowned. “I'm sorry.”

“It's not as dramatic as all that. I won it in a card game, then sold it back to the guy I won it from. I used the money to take some classes in Paris, so really, it helped me.”

“Glad I could be of service.” Joey broke off a bit of crab cake. It was delicious. It would have to be.

“Aww, Jo, that's not what I meant. Why are you so obsessed with dredging up the past? Why look back? The future's out there.” Pacey's gesture encompassed the room, which Joey only now realized was empty except for them. She'd been sitting longer than she thought. Leery's was closed.

“I'm sorry, is this too much self-pity on a night when I managed to be proposed to and break up? Let me know what the proper mourning window was, fifteen minutes, half an hour?”

“You weren't talking about him. You were talking about us.”

“This is about us!” Joey flicked over the tiny column into the congealing pasta.

Pacey surveyed her through hooded eyes. “How?”

“You didn't care!” She shoved away from the table and jumped to her feet. “You didn't try to stop him. You didn't watch to see what I'd say. You didn't care.”

Anger—or something else—glinted in Pacey's eyes as he rose to confront her. “I don't have a say in what your boyfriend does.” He took a step forward and erased the distance between them. “And I don't control your decisions.” His hands reached out and clasped her arms, drawing her to him. “But I damn well do care.”

Pacey kissed her, his mouth harsh and demanding. His grip on her arms made it seem like the kiss was out of her control, but Joey knew it wasn't. She opened her mouth and let him in.

Pacey stumbled at her eager response, and Joey used the momentum to push him back into one of the restaurant's wooden pillars. Pacey released his hold on her arms to right his own balance, and Joey buried her hands in his hair, to deepen the kiss. 

“Joey,” Pacey muttered when the kiss finally broke.

“How does this thing come off?” Joey wondered as she searched for the buttons on his chef shirt. She abandoned the thought to slip her hands underneath the hem and feel the skin of his back, the lines of his hips.

“Joey.” Pacey caught her wandering fingers, then raised them to kiss the knuckles. “Jo, this is monumentally stupid. You just ended a long-term relationship.”

“I don't care.” She kissed him again, kissed him until her skin hummed and her head spun and the blood rushed hot and fierce through her veins. “Do you?”

In answer, Pacey made a sound somewhere between a groan and a growl. He dropped her hands to grab her thighs and hoist her up his body, taking her black skirt up as well. Trailing open-mouthed kisses along her neck and jaw, he twisted them into a large corner booth, where he fell back with Joey on his lap.

“I can't think straight around you,” he confessed, as he played with the thin straps of her dress.

“I thought that was your brother's problem.” Joey finally found the buttons of his damn shirt, inconveniently placed to the side.

“Funny girl.” Pacey pulled her hips down to prove how very much of a not-problem that was.

Joey moaned. When he repeated the motion, she bit his ear and whispered, “God, Pace, I missed you so much.”

“Missed you, too,” Pacey mumbled against her sternum. The straps of her dress slithered down and away.

Joey finally freed Pacey of his stupid shirt, and skin met skin in the most right feeling she could remember. 

“Monumentally stupid,” Pacey whispered into her mouth. Those were the last coherent words he spoke for a long time. The rest was her name and a string of beautiful expletives.

*~*~*~*

Joey woke the next morning wretchedly sore and mildly disoriented. The body aches came not so much from her activities the night before as from sleeping on the tile entryway of Pacey's beach house. The confusion slipped away as she traced their progress from the restaurant to Pacey's car to the aforementioned entrance.

Pacey's arm wrapped around her, his even breath wafted the hair at the back of her neck. Joey had missed absolutely everything about this feeling. How had she lived without it so long? 

Slowly, she twisted her cramped muscles and turned to watch him in the first rays of sun streaming through the wall of windows behind them. A good thing Pacey had pulled the afghan off the couch and over them before passing out, or they'd have given morning joggers an eyeful.

A jog would be nice this morning to loosen the knots. But it would require leaving Pacey's arms. She preferred the floor and Pacey beside her, cramps and all. 

Joey loved the boyish, open expression on his face and the way he never turned away from her in sleep. She loved the fall of his lashes across his cheeks, and the old sledding scar on his right cheek. Unable to resist, she pressed a soft kiss to it, then to each of his eyelids, and the tip of his nose. Pacey was smiling when she finished with a kiss to his stubbly chin.

“Morning,” he said without opening his eyes. His fingers brushed a soothing rhythm against the skin of her back.

“Morning, sweetheart. Sorry to wake you.”

“No, you're not.” Pacey's blue eyes flickered open. They still looked drowsy, with little crinkles around the edges, but undeniably happy.

“No, I'm not,” Joey agreed. Mindful of morning breath, she placed a chaste, closed-mouth kiss on his lips, then buried her face in his shoulder, breathing him in, relishing the body contact. “I need a shower and a toothbrush, but I don't want to move.”

“Keep holding me like this, and I'm going to have to.”

Joey was aware of him, thick and straining against her flesh. She giggled and scraped her teeth along Pacey's neck. “Call in sick to work, and I'll take care of that little—” He pinched her. “—substantial problem for you.”

“I've already taken two days off this week, don't you remember?”

“Yes, your family had stomach flu, if I recall.” Joey started kissing her way down his body. “But now, I think you've caught it. You're burning—” She nipped the ridge of his pelvic bone. “—up.” Her mouth went lower still.

Pacey groaned. “Jo, God, Jo, that's...Fuck, you have to stop.” He wrapped his hands under her arms and urged her up, much to Joey's dismay.

“I wanted to, Pace.” She sat up, annoyed, wrapping the blanket around her naked body.

“And I wanted to let you. You have no idea...” Pacey pulled her back into his arms and buried his face in her hair. “But I'm supposed to take Anders to breakfast this morning.”

“Is that all? Call Bessie and tell her you're running late. They won't mind.” Joey reached down to loosen the blanket, but Pacey caught her hands.

“ _I'll_ mind. He's the only person I've never broken a promise to, and I don't intend to start now.”

“Trust you to have such a stupid, wonderful reason.” Joey reluctantly disentangled her body from his. She stood and pulled on his hands. “Come on, Witter. Cold showers for everyone.”

*~*~*~*

Pacey invited Joey to join him and Anders for breakfast, but she didn't want to explain to her five-year-old son what Mommy was doing in last night's dress, so she had him drop her off at the apartment instead. She refused to let their goodbye turn morning-after-awkward. She gave him a swift, thorough kiss, then ran inside.

Once in her apartment, Joey discarded the dress for a tank top and yoga pants. She grabbed a yogurt cup for breakfast and called Jen, her usual Sunday morning routine.

“Hey, Joey, what's up?”

“I wouldn't know where to begin. You start. How's everything with you and yours?”

“Big week for Amy—she's sitting up on her own, and she didn't cry when the doorman looked at her. Bad week for Grams—the pain is getting worse, but the stubborn old fool won't take a higher dose of meds. I suggested she try some marijuana and sent her crying to the heavens for my damned soul.”

“So proud of Amy, and so, so sorry about Mrs. Ryan. How are you doing?”

“About the same. Another week and I think I'll have the first draft of the masters' thesis from hell ready to send to you and Jack for proofing.” Jen's graduate degree had been put on hold for a while with pregnancy and her heart diagnosis, but she'd insisted on finishing it, whatever happened.

“I'll look forward to it.”

“Okay, seriously, what's with you? You could barely sound sad about Grams; you make wading through fifty pages of psych experiments looking for typos sound like frolicking with kittens. Under rainbows. You are, dare I say, positively chipper this morning.”

“I had sex with Pacey last night.” Joey hadn't called her friend with the intention of sharing that news, but she wasn't averse to telling the secret, either. Jen was right; she could not stop smiling.

“Wow. Okay. That was sudden. What about Greg?”

“We broke up.”

“You did? When? You didn't tell me about it.”

“I couldn't. It only happened last night.”

“Shit, Joey! Before, during or after the sex with Pacey?”

“Before, of course. I'm no cheater.”

Jen snorted. “You're also not slow on the rebound.”

“I thought you'd be happy for me—for us.”

“Of course I am. I'm just a bit confused. Maybe if you ran me through the sequence of events, I'd understand better. And don't spare on the pervy parts. I'm approaching a yearlong dry-spell.”

Joey told Jen all that had happened over the week, from the moment Anders got sick. But she did leave out most of the details of her night with Pacey. She wanted to be able to look Jen in the eye again.

“Yeah, no,” Jen said when Joey finished her story. “I love you both, and I don't want to judge, but Pacey is the last person on earth you can have a sex-fueled rebound fling with.”

“That's not what this is.”

“Are you sure about that? And, if you are, are you sure _Pacey_ knows that? Because it sounds to me like he's in the dark about a lot of things here.”

“Like what?”

“Like why you didn't tell him about the baby. Like how much you love him, and how you never got over him. Like why you jumped his bones last night.”

“He doesn't want to focus on the past, Jen. He said so. He wants to focus on the future, and, frankly, so do I.” Bringing up her lies about Anders would only drive Pacey away again.

“You won't have a future if you don't face up and tell that man the truth.”

The outer door buzzed. “That's them at the door. Thanks for the advice, Jen. Love to all. Talk to you soon. Bye.” She hung up on Jen's spluttering, then used the intercom to confirm it was her boys and let them up.

Joey's heart fluttered with each step on the stairs. She flung open the door as Anders reached the landing. “Hey, sweetie, have a nice breakfast?”

“Sure. We fed toast to the seagulls at the beach. Can I watch TV?”

“One program. Then we'll go to the park. It's a beautiful day.”

“'Kay, Mom.” Anders said goodbye to his dad and headed for the television set.

Joey noticed that Pacey waited on the landing, once again reluctant to enter her space. A wave of foreboding seized her. Jen couldn't be right, damn it. “I don't suppose you'd like to join us at the park?”

“Sorry. I have to work, remember?” Pacey eyed her warily, as if he regretted last night—or as if he expected her to regret it.

“Would you, would you like to come over after work?” Joey hated the small, needy quality to her voice.

Pacey hesitated. “I'm there 'til ten tonight. Anders will be in bed; you have school in the morning. I'm not sure—”

“I am. I am sure.” Joey hoped he understood she meant about much more than his stopping over tonight. “Please.”

“If you want me to.”

“I want you.” She let the preposition slide.

*~*~*~*

Joey kept herself and Anders busy all day, first playing at the park, then running the week's errands. She was jittery, afraid to slow down enough to think about Jen's warnings.

They kept intruding, no matter how many other things she gave herself to think about. While grocery shopping, fixing dinner, paying bills, two thoughts remained central in her mind: how much she loved Pacey, and how easily she could lose him.

Did he think this was just a fling? Did he want it to be? Joey knew Pacey desired her, but did he love her? If she told him the whole truth, would he love her then?

A hundred questions like these swirled around her head. She was absent-minded enough to grab the wrong book off the shelf before reading to Anders that night.

“Not that one, Mom. Fairy tales are for babies.”

Joey looked down at the copy of _Andersen's Fairy Tales_ in her hand. She traced the embossed letters with her index finger, then put the volume away and grabbed _Bunnicula_.

It was a quarter after ten when Pacey arrived. With Anders long asleep, Joey buzzed him in without the bother of the intercom. Pacey looked exhausted, and he reeked of fish. She took his hand, pulled him into the apartment and into her arms. He let his head fall forward into the curve of her neck; his arms wrapped around her and pulled her close. They stood that way for long minutes.

Finally, Joey came back to awareness. “Have you eaten? Do you want anything?”

She felt Pacey's head shake against her shoulder. “Ate at the restaurant.” His hands, which had til now been comforting and platonic, began to wander under Joey's shirt. He placed light kisses on all the skin in his reach.

Joey's fingers tightened in his hair, but she tried to stay in control this time. “How 'bout a glass of wine?”

Pacey pulled back. His thumbs traced the lines of her collarbone from the center out, and he watched their progress intently. “You make me feel more drunk than the finest bottle of Burgundy.”

“Is that supposed to be a compliment? You used to be better at them.” But Joey was blushing as she grabbed the sides of Pacey's shirt and pulled him back towards her room.

“Mmm, out of practice.” Pacey cradled her face in his hands and kissed her, long and intense. 

Joey kept backing them up, until she hit a wall and had nothing to do but focus on the way Pacey's touch made her feel. He was right; it was like being drunk. “Some things come right back, though.”

Pacey braced his hands on the wall above her head. He leaned his forehead against hers, breathing hard. “Jo, I think—”

“We need to talk about this,” she finished for him. “And we will. But right now,” she peppered kisses across his face, “right now, it's late, and we're tired, and I want you.” She whispered throatily in his ear, “Come to bed, Pace.”

Eyes black with desire, Pacey nodded. Joey took him by the hand and led him into her room.

*~*~*~*

Afterwards, Joey rolled out of bed to grab some pajamas from her dresser.

Pacey watched bemusedly. “Going somewhere, Jo?”

“No. Anders doesn't often run into my room in the mornings anymore, but if he does, I'd rather not be butt naked.”

“Oh. Right.” Pacey reached for his boxers. “Should I, should I go then?”

Joey froze, her tank-top around her neck, breasts bare. “Do you want to go?”

“No. I just...don't know how you usually handle this. Is Anders used to Greg here in the mornings? Will it be weird for him?”

“I never slept with Greg here,” Joey admitted, not looking at Pacey. She finished yanking on her shirt. “So the matter never came up.”

“Jo.” Her name was an intimate caress. It brought her gaze to his. The soft look in Pacey's eyes matched the tone of his voice. He was only on the other side of the bed, and he felt too far away.

She knelt on the bed, hand outstretched to him. “Stay, please.”

Pacey took her hand, interlacing their fingers. He, too, knelt on the bed, mirroring her position. “Anders?”

Joey shrugged. “It's okay for mommies and daddies to sleep in the same bed. He knows that.”

Pacey found her other hand as well. He leaned forward and kissed her brow. “Okay, Mommy. Let's go to bed.”

*~*~*~*

In all the years of her life, Joey had never hated her alarm clock more. Two nights in a row of strenuous, after-hours activity made six o'clock a hellish time to wake. 

Pacey groaned and reached for her when she got up. He caught her hand in his. Joey turned back, using her free hand to smooth his rumpled hair.

“I have to turn it off, or it will keep making that noise.”

Pacey abruptly released her. Joey crossed the room to end the shrieking on her dresser. “Why'd you put it so far away, anyway?”

“So I couldn't roll over and go back to sleep. You can, if you want. I'm going to take a shower. Anders will be up soon. I'd...I'd appreciate if you waited to join him until I'm done. This is new territory for me, too.”

The mention of Anders brought Pacey fully awake. “Sure thing, Jo, whatever you want.” He watched her gather clothes for the day. “I suppose communal showers are out, huh?”

“Don't push your luck, Witter.” Joey threw a pillow at him before ducking out of the room and shutting the door behind her.

She nearly tripped over Anders in the hallway. He was rubbing his eyes, still in his pajamas. “Who were you talking to, Mom?”

Panic. Immediate panic. This was not how she envisioned this explanation occurring. For starters, Joey would be dressed. They would all be gathered around the kitchen table, and it would be a Hallmark commercial moment.

“Mommy?”

“Uh, your father, he, um, spent the night.”

“Dad's here?” Anders lit up. He raced past Joey, threw open the door, and jumped on the Pacey-sized lump on the bed. “Hey, Dad, when'd you get here? Was I already asleep? Why'd you sleep in Mom's room? You should have made a fort like last time. That was awesome! Can we do it again?”

Pacey sat up, blinking owlishly down at his son, then glancing up at Joey, who lingered in the doorway. “Uh, no forts this morning, kiddo. Gotta get ready for school.” He wisely didn't touch the rest of the questions.

Joey smiled as she headed for the bathroom.

*~*~*~*

When she emerged half an hour later, once again the smells of coffee and bacon greeted her, along with the sound of Anders' jabbering. Joey paused, savoring the sight of Pacey padding barefoot around her kitchen, in boxers and a t-shirt.

He caught her eye and smiled. “Hey.” He crossed the room to her, put a hand to her waist and was about to kiss her, when he recalled Anders' presence and pulled away. “Mind if I grab a quick shower before we head out?”

“Not at all. Towels are in the hall closet.” Joey badly wanted to complete that kiss, but knew Pacey was right. They needed to talk this out before they brought Anders into it any farther.

Joey took the seat across from her son and helped herself to pancakes and bacon. She brainstormed with Anders for a few minutes on the favorite animal project his teacher had assigned him, but he seemed as distracted as she was.

“Are you sick again, Mom?”

“No. What makes you ask that?”

“The last time Dad came over, you were sick.”

“Oh, right. No, I'm fine, sweetie. You don't get stomach flu more than once a season.”

“I know that.” Anders rolled his eyes, as though he couldn't believe how stupid his mother thought him. “I thought it might be a baby.”

Joey choked on her pancake. “Wh-what?” she spluttered through the hacking.

“Alex says Aunt Bessie throws up all of the time because of his baby brother in her tummy. I thought maybe you and Dad were going to have another baby.”

“No, no, no, not at all, no.”

Too late, Joey became aware of Pacey's footsteps walking back down the hall. He was dressed now, in his uniform, but his towel-dried hair had not been combed. He sat down on the couch to pull his boots on without a word or glance for her.

“Oh. Then why'd you sleep over, Dad?”

“I was tired after work.”

“But your house is closer.”

“Mom's is warmer. Now, brush your teeth and grab your backpack. You're gonna be late for school.”

There was a weird vibe in the room with Anders gone. Joey cleared the dishes and put the excess food away. “Thank you for breakfast, Pacey,” she said formally. “It was delicious, as always.”

“You're welcome.” Pacey's eyes followed her around the kitchen. They were unaccountably sad. “Jo, will you go out with me tonight?”

Joey paused with the refrigerator door wide open. “Go out? On, like, a date?”

“Yeah, somewhere with food I didn't cook, and people, and maybe some music, where we can talk.”

Joey understood what Pacey didn't add. Where there were witnesses to keep them from falling back into bed before they'd figured out where they stood. “I'd love to. I'll see if Bess can take Anders for the night.”

“Great.” His tone was dejected. “Pick you up at six?”

Joey walked over to him. “Your word says _great_. Your face says I just killed your puppy.” She pulled on the hem of his shirt. “What's the matter, Pace?”

“Ready!” Anders popped up between them.

“Okay, kiddo, let's go.” Pacey lifted his son over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and carried him, squealing, down the stairs.

She followed slowly, dread gripping her stomach.

*~*~*~*

Joey wanted to look nice for her first official date with Pacey, but her limited wardrobe didn't offer many options. The red dress was too fancy for anywhere in Capeside, her black had seen better days since their escapades the other night, the white and yellow ones were both too light for the cool evening, and the burgundy's high waist made her look too girlish. By process of elimination, she landed on a green dress with a red leaf pattern. She worried the high neck and long sleeves made her look too matronly, but it fit well and emphasized her long legs. It would have to do.

When Pacey buzzed, she ran down to meet him, rather than drag him up and down the stairs. 

Pacey whistled appreciatively when he saw her. “Now I know why you didn't invite me in, Potter. We'd never have left the apartment.”

Joey blushed at the compliment and smiled to see that Pacey's weird mood had dissipated. “Right back atcha, mister.” She grabbed the open collar of his blue button-down shirt and pulled him in for a hello kiss.

“Mmm, you smell good, too,” she said when they parted.

Pacey chuckled and kissed her nose. “You're easily impressed, Jo. Anything other than fish is good to you.”

Their fingers laced together during the short walk to his car. It felt completely natural.

“I can't deny I'm looking forward to the era of the Ice House, if for no other reason than that.”

“Ah yes, those tantalizing aromas of stale beer and grill char,” Pacey teased, as he opened the passenger door and gave her a hand in.

“How is the restaurant coming along?” Joey asked when Pacey slid in the other side.

“Good. I'm hoping New Year's Eve for the opening. Chinese okay for dinner?”

“Sure.” 

Pacey talked about the Ice House on the way. They argued about entrees until the waiter came. Once their orders were taken, though, Pacey's easy good humor fell away.

“We have to talk about this, Jo.”

“I know.” Joey played with the cloth napkin in her lap. She wished he would at least take her hand.

“We have a kid together. If this goes wrong, he could get hurt, too. That can't happen.”

“You think this is going to go wrong?”

Pacey rearranged sugar packets. “I don't know what this is. What do you want from me, Jo?” He looked up at her, eyes pleading.

Joey wanted what she had always wanted, what she had set her heart on a long time ago, on a spring day by the _True Love_. She wanted Pacey to love her. But she could hardly answer that way. “What do _you_ want?” she asked instead.

“I want not to screw-up my life—or yours—again. I don't know if you've noticed, but it's been going pretty well—remarkably well—for me since I came home. With work, with Anders, even with my family. And with you...it's taken us months to feel like friends again.”

Her heart sank. “You want to be just friends?”

“I can never be 'just' anything with you, Jo. Even when I tried hating you, I still wanted you. But I need to know where I stand.”

“So you can brace yourself for when it all falls apart, you mean.”

Pacey looked surprised at her response, but he didn't deny it. Their food arrived before he said anything at all.

Over her beef and broccoli, Joey surveyed Pacey's miserable face. She was being entirely unfair to him, this man she loved. She expected him to put his heart on the line, but was terrified to do the same herself.

“I don't want a fling,” she admitted.

Pacey's head shot up. “What?”

“This, us,” she gestured between them, “whatever it is, it is _not_ a fling. After you left, it took me years to give up on the idea of you, even longer to let myself think about loving somebody else. And the second I saw you again, none of that mattered. You were all I wanted.”

Finally, Pacey reached for her hand. He pulled it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I've tried forgetting you in other women, even got married once, idiot that I am. I've tried running from it, burying it, ignoring it. Until I gave up and just accepted it—I love you, Joey. I have always, always loved you. It's the inescapable truth of my life.”

Tears stung her eyes. The knowledge that, whatever happened, Pacey deserved the same honesty from her brought the truth to Joey's lips at last. “It wasn't because I thought you were irresponsible.”

“What?” Pacey looked confused by her non-sequitur.

“When I didn't tell you I was pregnant, it wasn't what Doug told you. I never thought you were too irresponsible. The opposite, in fact. I knew you'd stay to do right by the baby, and in my selfish, screwy head, that was trapping you, when I wanted you to stay because you loved me.”

Pacey took a deep breath, let it go. “Okay.”

“That's it? Okay? Aren't you going to scream at me and take back everything you said?”

“I'd only take it back if it wasn't true anymore. Look, everything about missing those years with Anders, and with you, sucks. But we can't undo that, and I don't feel like wasting any more time being angry about it.”

“I love you. Have I said that? You're perfect, and I love you.”

“Hold that thought. There's one more thing we need to clear up.”

Joey bit her lip. Her shiny happiness balloon sprang a slow leak. “What's that?”

“This morning, your reaction to Anders' question about a kid, was that about now, specifically, or never, you're done having kids?”

Joey laughed in sheer relief. “That was about the horror of discussing babies with a five-year-old.” She sobered and eyed him speculatively. “Do you want more kids?”

“It's way too soon to be talking about this, I know, but...since I met Anders, I think about it a lot, all the things I missed, first steps and first words, the day he was born, getting to hold that tiny little boy and know we made him.”

“I'm sorry, Pace.” She squeezed his fingers.

Pacey waved away her apology. “Don't be. It's in the past. But in the future? I want to be there.”

“You will be,” Joey promised.

~*~

**I.**

They returned to Boston for only a short time. Pacey gave notice; they put the house up for sale. Joey tried to balance two, young, demanding children with work and packing. They went house-hunting in Capeside and its environs and started on the masses of paperwork necessary to make the Ice House dream a reality.

In less time than Joey supposed possible, they had moved their family into a creekside fixer-upper Pacey insisted had potential. He might be right, but it also had ants, a wobbly staircase, and water damage. Pacey threw himself into projects at home and at the restaurant. Joey saw him less, but when she did, he was brimming with excitement. A worthwhile trade-off, in her opinion.

She took on as many illustration projects as she could, in addition to working on her own books. Even knowing she was likely to be the sole provider for the foreseeable future, Joey wasn't worried. Or she tried not to be.

Anders was over the moon to be so close to his cousins and Lily Leery. Joey looked forward to the day he was old enough to row a boat across the creek.

Their house came with an old bench facing the water. On warm, mellow evenings, when the stars shone down with comforting familiarity, when Pacey was home from work, and the kids were sound asleep in their beds, Joey would sit on the bench beside her husband. They would talk about their days, all the little details they had missed, or they would sit, exhausted but content, and listen to the water as it flowed past their feet.

One night, Joey thought about Mr. and Mrs. Ryan and their lifetime watching the creek go by. She laid her head on Pacey's shoulder and told him, “We're the exception.”

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

They never did sit Anders down and explain to him that Mommy and Daddy were together now. There wasn't a need. He accepted their shared bed and shared lives, as easily as he loved Pacey just for being on the other side of the door.

They did the back-and-forth routine for a while. But when Joey's lease on her apartment ran out, she didn't renew it. She and Anders moved in with Pacey, while they saved for a dream home together.

The Ice House did open on New Year's Eve, though the amazing food at the party was overshadowed by the town sheriff coming out by kissing his boyfriend at midnight in front of most of Capeside.

Dawson seemed genuine in his happiness for Joey and Pacey. But Sam ended up with Colby.

Jen and Grams returned to Capeside in the spring. Mrs. Ryan was nearing the end and wanted to be near her lifelong friends and the grave of her husband, next to whom she meant to lie for eternity. There was nothing more the doctors could do for her.

They couldn't do much for Jen, either. “Not unless the heart transplant comes through,” Jen told Joey as she rested on the porch of the beach house. “And it seems wrong to hope for that, for someone else to die so I can live.”

“It does seem wrong, and yet I want that, Jen.” Tears flowed down Joey's face. “I don't want to lose you.”

“Stop that blubbering, or you won't be my best friend anymore.”

Joey laughed, obediently wiping her tears away. “Jack's your best friend, but I'm honored to be a close second.”

“I had my will drawn up before we left New York.” There was the slightest quaver in Jen's voice, as she added, “I'm leaving Amy to Jack. You're the best mom I know, but—our country being what it is—this may be Jack's best shot at a child. You understand, don't you?”

“Understand and approve. You're leaving her in the best possible hands. Just don't leave her too soon, okay?”

~*~*~

**II.**

The phone call came in the middle of the night, only a few weeks before they anticipated making some late night calls of their own. It was from Jack, and Jen was dead. They hadn't even known she was sick.

Pacey and Joey drove down to Capeside for the funeral, even though Joey wasn't supposed to travel. Dawson and Audrey flew in from L.A. Andie sat beside her inconsolable brother. Mrs. Ryan held Jen's tiny daughter. Joey couldn't stop crying; she usually blamed hormones, but not for this.

The backache she'd had all day was undeniably labor pains by the end of the wake. Joey's baby was born in Capeside; though, unlike her sister, she had the benefit of a hospital bed and the conveniences of modern medicine. It seemed wrong to feel such joy in the midst of so much sorrow, but the emotions mingled inextricably the first time she held her son in her arms.

Their friends all stopped by to see the baby, to grab a bit of happiness in the midst of their own grief. Even Mrs. Ryan visited.

Joey asked her blessing on the name they'd chosen. “We want to call him Lindley.”

Mrs. Ryan cried and kissed his waxy forehead. “The Lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away,” she choked. “Lindley. It's a good name. I think Jennifer would be honored.”

~*~*~

“I'm sorry it happened like this,” Pacey said later, when it was just the three of them. He looked down at sleeping Lindley in awe. “But I'll never be sorry we had him.”

“I'm not sorry about anything, except that Jen couldn't be here to meet him, to see her own baby girl grow up.” A sob rose in her throat at the thought of the motherless girl. “We have to treasure him. Every minute.” She ran her fingertips across her son's impossibly soft, downy skin. “There's no guarantee we'll have another.”

“Treasure him.” Pacey brushed a kiss against the infant's forehead, and another across Joey's brow. “Treasure you. I can do that.”

Joey curled into his side and watched their baby breathe.

*~*~*~*

**IV.**

Joey was exiting the doctor's office when Pacey called. He was frantic, didn't make any sense. Someone had died. For a horrifying moment, she was sure it was Jen. But it wasn't Jen. Someone at the Ice House, an organ donor, and a match for Jen. They were airlifting Jen and the heart to Boston for surgery. Pacey was on his way to pick Joey up now.

Once they were both in the car, headed for Boston, Pacey clarified the chain of events. “I heard the screaming and raced out, saw her on the ground. My first thought was allergic reaction, every chef's worst nightmare. But the lady's husband was the calmest person there. Aneurysm, he said, and call 911, she's a donor.” Pacey shook his head in disbelief. “All those years they lived, knowing it could happen any moment. And I saw her die, the woman who is going to save Jen's life.”

Joey said nothing, just placed her hand on the back of his neck, played with the strands of his hair, while he drove.

Mrs. Ryan and Jack were already there when Joey and Pacey arrived. Jen's mother was on her way; Doug had volunteered to meet her train. Amy was back in Capeside with the Leerys; Anders, with Joey's sister.

Even if everything went well, they were in for a long wait during the surgery, and a longer one afterwards, to see if infection would set in or if Jen's body would accept the new heart. Mrs. Ryan asked Jack to take her to the hospital chapel. Pacey and Joey took their places in the waiting room.

Joey laid her head on Pacey's shoulder, her hand on his arm. He covered it with his other hand. 

“It was only a year ago we were waiting for her to have the baby, and now this,” Joey mused.

“It makes you reevaluate life, doesn't it? How important it is to snap up every second of happiness while we can. Jo—”

“I'm pregnant,” said Joey, at the exact moment Pacey said, “Marry me.”

They pulled back to look at each other, assessing, nodding, smiling, crying, laughing. Pacey hugged her tight, dropping kisses all over her face. They were getting odd looks from the other people in the room, but Joey didn't care. She kissed him back and thanked God for miracles.

*~*~*

**III.**

Their baby came with the first spring rains. Bessie and Bodie and family were there, Jack and Doug, Audrey and her latest boy toy, Dawson and Amy, Jen and her new, working heart.

Joey named her daughter Grace. An undeserved gift.

~*~*~

**II.**

The red dragon soared gracefully through the sky, while the blue bird dragged on the ground.

“You've got to loosen the line,” Joey called to her daughter. “And give it a running start.”

The pudgy, dark-haired girl followed her instructions and soon had her kite in the air beside her brother's.

Joey headed back to her towel and their little claimed spot on the beach. Pacey was grinning up at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” He leaned back on the towel, hands behind his head, and watched the kites fly.

~*~

**I.**

They celebrated their tenth wedding anniversary with a trip to Paris. Like most things in life, Joey's dreams and the reality did not align. The airline lost their luggage, the Seine smelled of sewage, and that stereotype of French people hating tourists? One hundred percent accurate.

They climbed the Eiffel Tower and looked out over the City of Lights. 

“Any regrets, Jo?”

She wrapped her arms around him. “Not a one.”

### Epilogue

The night was dark, but the moon was bright. The sailboat dropped anchor in a peaceful little cove, unpolluted by man-made lights. They pulled the mattresses up on deck, and the children—numbers, names and ages varied, but their existence never did—lay down between them.

This was the ending of all the stories, though the fairy tales would put it a different way, something about _happily ever after_. 

Joey didn't believe in “ever after.” True happiness was found in appreciating life moment by moment. She listened to the sea lap against the hull, felt the breeze tickle her face, and helped her family count the stars.

**_fin_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Where to start? First of all, thanks to everyone who left a comment or kudos. And while I'm at it, thanks to everyone who spent their valuable time reading this story, even if they didn't. 
> 
> I first got the idea for this story while re-watching “Late” and being frustrated at the after-school special plot to remind teenage viewers that Sex Is Bad and to drive another nail in the PJ relationship coffin. I started thinking what would have happened if Joey had been pregnant. My first thought was abortion, and so the plotline which ended up being III started forming in my head. But the draw of Daddy!Pacey was too strong, and I started thinking about what would happen if she kept the baby, and the whole sliding doors concept was born. (I even had a few adoption plotlines in my head at the start, but that became too convoluted even for me.)
> 
> Writing this story was such an incredible experience for me. It's the first long story I've managed to finish in over a decade, and it has completely revolutionized the way I look at fanfic. At least writing my own. I wrote it, knowing it would mostly be going into a vacuum, that there wasn't really a call for novel-length stories about characters from a show that aired twenty years ago. So it wasn't written for view counts or reviews; it was written because a story got in my head and had to get out.
> 
> I'm about 15k into my next Pacey/Joey epic, and have several more outlined. But I have abandoned the guilt and frustration that comes with permanent WIPs, so I'll only post when/if they're finished in hopes of keeping this my favorite fandom experience of all time.
> 
> Thank you all for joining Joey and Pacey (and me) on this journey.


End file.
